Road Trip 5: The Loneliest Road
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: After a bad case, Tony needs a vacation, but Delilah calls him and begs him to get through to Tim. Tim isn't talking, but something has left a deep gaping wound, one so deep that even Tony may not be able to help, but that doesn't stop him from trying. Fifth story in my Road Trip series. Already complete. 20 chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This is the fifth story in my Road Trip series, and it's quite a bit darker than the others, much more in line with the first one than the stories following it. It's still a Tony and Tim road trip, but the background is darker and anyone reading should be ready for that.

If you're not familiar with the Road Trip series, it began following the season 9 finale with Dearing and so it's slightly AU since I've followed my own story line. It does include Ziva leaving, Tony leaving, and Tim and Delilah being together, but a lot of the details are very different. For instance, Tim and Delilah are married, but they have a son named Tommy (Thomas Allen McGee). At this point, Tim has his own team in the D.C. field office. Tony has his own team in Norfolk after a stint in Bahrain. I do recommend reading the other stories in this series, but you can probably follow with that much.

 **Disclaimer:** As always, I don't own NCIS and the characters aren't mine. No money being made here.

* * *

 **The Loneliest Road  
** by Enthusiastic Fish

 **Chapter 1**

Tony sat at his desk, staring vacantly at the now-blank monitor. He hadn't moved in a while.

"Tony?"

There had been a face on that monitor for three weeks. Three weeks and a million years.

"Tony, the computer is off."

Now that it was gone, he didn't even know where else to look.

"DiNozzo!"

He looked up and saw the concerned face of Chaz, the case agent at Norfolk.

"Tony, are you okay?"

"Yeah, sure, Chaz. Why?"

"Because you've been staring at nothing for about twenty-five minutes and it's worrying me."

"Have I?"

Chaz hitched one leg up on Tony's desk and looked at him.

"That was a hard case and everyone knows it. You don't have to pretend to throw it off. Your team won't think less of you and you're not fooling anyone anyway."

"I'm not, huh?"

"No."

Tony sighed and stared at the empty screen again.

"His face has been there every waking second and now that he's gone..."

"You should be feeling relieved. He wasn't all that good-looking anyway."

Tony smiled and leaned back.

"He got to me," he admitted. "Milan got to me."

"Then, you should take a vacation. It's not like you don't have the time coming," Chaz said.

"I wasn't the only one working on this," Tony said. "I'm not..."

"That doesn't matter. You were the lead and no one else was staring at him nonstop for three weeks."

Tony started to shake his head, wanting to claim he just needed a day or two when his phone started ringing.

"Just a second, Chaz." He answered. "DiNozzo."

" _Tony, it's Delilah."_

"Delilah?" Tony asked. "What's up?"

" _If I start beating around the bush, you'll wonder why in the world I'm calling you in the middle of the work day. I'll just come right out and ask. If you can't, I understand. We'll figure something else out."_

"What are you talking about?" Tony asked, now concerned. "What's wrong?"

" _Is there any chance that you could take a vacation and get Tim to go with you?"_

"Why? What happened?"

" _I don't know, exactly. A couple of weeks ago, there was some case that had him working with Agent Gibbs. He was nervous about it, but something must have gone wrong. He came home from work shaking. He was literally_ shaking _, Tony. I asked him what was wrong, but he insisted nothing was wrong. ...but Director Vance has him on leave and something about the way Tim talked, I think something went really wrong with the case and...and it has to do with Gibbs. I would swear to it, but Tim will not talk about it. Not to me, not to anyone. I even called one of his agents. She doesn't know, either...well, she knows the case, but she said that she wasn't supposed to talk about it. They're keeping the whole thing under wraps. Tony, I'm really worried about him."_

"What are you hoping for?"

" _A road trip. Tim said before that your road trips were always more than vacations. They were a way for you both to talk about things. Maybe he'll talk if you're there to get him out of the house."_

Tony sighed and looked up at Chaz again.

"Well, it just so happens that I've been told I need to take a vacation myself," he said as Chaz grinned.

" _Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't even think about..."_

"No, it's okay. A vacation is a vacation. Give me a day or two, let me see what time I can take and where we might go. You want me to warn Tim that I'm coming?"

" _No. He'll say no if you give him time. I think he needs to be shocked out of his funk, just enough to get him out."_

"You keep saying get him out of the house. Is he really not leaving at all?"

" _He really isn't leaving. He's gone into the backyard with Tommy, but that's it. Not even to the park. He's just inside all day, mostly staring at the wall. I don't dare leave Tommy home with him because he's just so on edge...and yet, not doing anything. Tony, you know the kinds of things Tim's gone through before. This really scares me."_

"Okay. It's almost the weekend. That should be enough time to figure something out. I'll be there, Delilah. I promise."

" _Thank you, Tony. You have no idea."_

"You can make it up to me later. Buy me dinner or something. Change Tommy's name to Tony in appreciation."

Delilah laughed just a little.

" _Tim would never forgive me."_

"Okay, okay. See you on Saturday or Sunday."

" _Thanks. See you."_

Tony hung up and looked at Chaz again.

"I guess I'm taking a vacation. Have _you_ heard anything about some case in D.C.? Gibbs and McGee involved?"

Chaz sat back and thought. Every office had the person who just seemed to know everything. Chaz was that person at Norfolk. In fact, Tony had figured that out early on and cultivated a friendship with him, at first just to get in on everything going on, but then, after a while, he figured out _why_ Chaz knew everything. He was the kind of guy who invited confidences. You had told him your deepest secrets before you even realized he'd asked you to do it. Tony had asked him why he was content just being a case agent, and he had just said that he had everything he wanted.

"I know there was _something_ over there, but they were keeping it quiet. I haven't heard more than that."

Meaning that there was nothing more to know. If Chaz didn't know, no one at Norfolk knew. It had to be something big if it was being kept quiet and had two full teams working on it.

"Hmm... Well, I guess that's that. I'll put in the request."

"Where will you go? Some beach or something? Surfing?"

"Nah. We don't do that kind of thing," Tony said, smiling. "We'll go on a road trip. It'll just be figuring out which road to drive on. Something quirky and not normal. Any ideas?"

"Quirky and not normal? A road trip? Like Wall Drug or something?"

"Nope. We've already done Wall Drug. And the Badlands, twice. And Yellowstone. And Alaska was the last one."

"Have you ever gone on U.S.-50?"

"Highway?"

"Yeah. It goes from coast to coast something like 3,000 miles. If you're wanting a road trip, that would be hard to top."

"Anything to see?" Tony asked.

Chaz chuckled. "Yeah, Tony. The entire country. You go through eleven or twelve states and you end up in San Francisco. Probably, there's some stuff that's pretty empty, but you'll be going through the Rockies, Sierra Nevadas, Appalachians, and the Nevada desert. That part's called the Loneliest Road in America."

"Sounds...great," Tony said, doubtfully.

"If you've been to Wall Drug, you don't have any place to criticize," Chaz said. "But really, Tony, if McGee is that bad off, are you sure you want to have a vacation with him? _You_ need a vacation, a real one. Not taking care of someone who's fallen off the deep end."

"Yeah, I know, but McGee's my friend. Heck, he made me an honorary uncle when his kid was born. If he needs help, then, I need to give it. If he'll let me. And maybe even if he doesn't."

Chaz smiled. "So you really are that sappy, huh? And you put on the facade of being this happy-go-lucky guy all the time."

"Why does it have to be one or the other?" Tony asked, smiling back. "You think a person can't be sappy and happy at the same time?"

"You know what I mean, Tony. You're just doing this to get my goat, aren't you."

"No. Chaz, Tim and I have been through a lot. I've been there for him. He's been there for me. If this time, he needs me to be there, then, it's just turn about. Now, I've got to put in my request for leave, see how long they'll give me."

"They'll give whatever you ask to you. I think they're just waiting for you to ask."

"Well, you'd know," Tony said. He turned back to his computer, momentarily dreading seeing Milan's face on the screen...before remembering that he wouldn't be there ever again.

"Just make sure you've got plenty of snacks," Chaz said. "Road trips are no fun without snacks."

"I know that. I'm a road trip expert."

Then, Chaz headed off to work, apparently satisfied that Tony was doing what he thought he should. Tony watched him go and then, he shook his head. Honestly, the prospect of a road trip was more appealing than it probably should be. A chance to get away from work, even if it was because of something serious, was a good thing as far as he was concerned.

It was just a matter of how much time he could finagle. Six thousand miles was quite a lot of driving, and he doubted that the highway would have a 75 mph speed limit. Of course, they could come back on the interstate and shave off some time. Probably, they'd need two weeks. He definitely had personal days he could take, but that would be pushing it, even considering his situation. If Tim was on leave already, he probably had the time.

Well, there was nothing to do but ask. If they couldn't get enough time, all they had to do was just not go as far.

He'd get this done as quickly as he could.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim was sitting on the couch, staring at nothing. His mind kept circulating among fury and fear and grief and regret. He had asked Vance to let him come back to work, but Vance had refused, saying that the investigation wasn't finished and he needed some time off anyway. Two weeks so far.

"Daddy! Outside!"

Tim tried to ignore the churning in his stomach at his son's words. He heard Delilah roll into the room and he knew what she was going to say.

"Tim, could you please take Tommy outside? Please?"

Tommy came running over to him and grabbed his hand.

"Daddy! Outside!"

"Please, Tim?"

"Okay."

Tim stood up and let Tommy drag him out of the house. He blinked in the morning sun and picked up one of the balls that Tommy liked. He could almost catch. He was good enough at throwing that Tim had to watch to keep from getting a ball in the face. Tommy could throw, but he couldn't really aim.

"Catch, Tommy!"

Tommy lifted up his hands, ready to catch. Tim tossed the ball to him gently. Typically, the ball fell through his hands to the grass, but he picked it up and eagerly threw it back. Tim caught it and smiled as Tommy started clapping.

"Okay, Tommy. Let's count."

Tommy laughed and copied Tim as he counted.

"One. Two... Three!"

Tim tossed the ball back to Tommy who dropped it to the grass again.

"Yea!"

Tim heard the doorbell and considered going inside to save Delilah the trouble of answering it, but then, he decided against it, choosing to focus on his son. He didn't want to see anyone. He barely wanted to see his own family right now, so any other visitor wasn't welcome as far as he was concerned.

It all reminded him of...

He looked down and realized that he was clenching his hands into fists.

Then, suddenly, a ball hit him in the face. He jumped and looked at Tommy who laughed and flung his hands up in the air.

"Yea!"

"Tommy, you're supposed to warn me," Tim said, feeling the churning calm down a little in the face of his son's glee. He could even smile.

Tommy ran over to him and patted his face.

"Better?" he asked.

"Yes, that's better. Thank you, Tommy."

Tommy gave Tim his trademark slobbery kiss and then picked up the ball and ran back. This time, Tim was ready when the ball came flying at him and he caught it.

"Hey, Tommy! Nice throw!"

The unexpected voice startled Tim and he turned around just as Tommy made a beeline for the door.

"Tony! Tony!" he shouted.

"Tony," Tim said, in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Visiting," Tony said. "Hey, Tommy. I could use a big hug."

Tony picked Tommy up and got a tight hug. Tommy grunted with the effort of hugging Tony as hard as he could. Then, Tony put him down and looked at Tim.

"Visiting?" Tim repeated. "Why?"

"Well, that's not the kind of response I would think for a visit from a beloved friend."

Tim looked behind Tony at Delilah and raised an eyebrow. She looked unrepentant, which told Tim that she had asked Tony to come.

"Well, I'm not really in the mood for visitors, Tony. Feel free to talk to Delilah, though."

He got to his feet and started inside. He didn't get very far. Tony grabbed his arm.

"Don't do this, again, Tim," he said, in a low voice.

The anger that was always churning in his gut boiled over.

"If you're here to speak for Gibbs, don't bother, Tony! I'm not interested in hearing it," he snarled and pulled his arm away. Then, he stalked into the house, not looking at Delilah since he knew she'd be disappointed in his reaction.

He got into the living room and heard Delilah comforting Tommy who was probably upset about his dad being angry. Tim felt bad about that and it calmed the anger down.

"Tim, wait," Tony said from behind him.

Tim stopped, but he didn't turn around.

"I wasn't coming here to talk about Gibbs. I haven't talked _to_ Gibbs in weeks."

"Delilah called you."

"Yeah. She's worried, and so am I if this is how you're acting."

"What do you want?" Tim asked.

"To go on a road trip. I've had a rough few weeks and I need some time off. You're apparently not working. What do you say?"

"I don't want to go anywhere."

"I think Delilah wants you to."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because she's already packed your stuff."

Tim turned around and saw Tony's usual grin. But now, with him focusing a little bit more, Tim could see a shadow in Tony's eyes. He had said things were rough.

"I really don't want to go anywhere, Tony," he said, but his voice was tired and he knew it.

Tony walked over and shook him just a little bit.

"I really think you need to. We both need some time away. If Tommy was a little older, I'd say we could take him with us, but he's a bit young for a road trip. Next time."

"When would we leave?"

"As soon as I can drag you out of the house. All my bags are packed. I'm ready to go," Tony said, almost singing.

Tim raised an eyebrow again.

"Are you serious?"

"Yep."

"Where would we go?"

"Highway 50 all the way across the country. Three thousand miles there and three thousand miles back."

"Six thousand miles? That'll take forever."

"I have two weeks off, and I'm guessing you have plenty of time, too."

Tim grimaced and looked away.

"Not by choice," he said, softly.

"I didn't think so."

"So you're just wanting to reproduce the first time, huh? Me being forced to take time off and you forcing me to go on a road trip."

"As I recall, you needed it last time, too," Tony said, pointedly. "In fact, as I recall, you spent the next five years thanking me for it."

"Maybe I've reconsidered," Tim said, but his heart wasn't in it.

Tony could clearly tell. He smiled.

"Come on, Tim. A road trip is no fun to do alone. I need someone to do half the driving."

"You'll trust me to drive this time?"

"As long as you promise not to kill us."

"I make no promises," Tim said, his stomach starting to churn again.

Tony's smile faded and Tim knew he could tell that he'd inadvertently touched a nerve.

"Please, Tim. Come with me. I don't have any real stops in mind. We'll just stop when we want to until we get to San Francisco. Then, we'll drive back on the interstate which will be faster."

Tim looked back at Delilah who had come into the room, Tommy sitting on her lap. If it was just himself, he would tell Tony to forget it, but it wasn't just him anymore. He had other people in his life. He walked over to Delilah and Tommy and knelt down so that he was at eye level with his son.

"Tommy, did I scare you?"

Tommy nodded solemnly.

"I'm sorry. Will you give me a hug?"

Tommy instantly reached out and Tim took him from Delilah and hugged him tightly, feeling the grief anew, the grief that he hated because it always led him back to anger.

"Tommy, I'm going to be gone for a little while. I'll miss you while I'm gone. Okay?"

"Okay," Tommy said.

Tim knew that Tommy probably didn't really understand, but he had to say the words anyway.

"I love you."

"Love you!" Tommy said.

Then, Tim kissed Tommy on the cheek. Tommy gave him another slobbery kiss and Tim set him down. He looked at Delilah and touched her cheek. Then, he stood up and walked by Tony into the bedroom. There was indeed a packed bag sitting on the bed. He opened it up and then pulled out a few extra things to put into the bag.

"Tim?"

He didn't turn around.

"What, Delilah?"

"Please, don't go away mad."

"I'm not mad at you."

"But you are mad."

"I'm sorry, but what I'm angry about isn't going away. It doesn't matter if we drive 3,000 miles or 10,000 miles. That's not going away."

Delilah rolled up close to him and took his hand. She squeezed it tightly.

"Tim, I love you so much. I just want you to be who you are, not this silent stranger living in the house. I'm afraid that I'll lose you to whatever this is."

"Two weeks," Tim said. "I'll see you in two weeks."

"Call me. Every night."

"I will."

Then, Tim walked by her and up to Tony.

"I'm guess I'm ready to go."

"Great! Let's go!"

They left the house.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"So where are we going?" Tim asked. "You're not driving west and west is where San Francisco is, last I checked."

"We have to go to the beginning of highway 50. We can't start not at the beginning," Tony said.

"Where does it start?"

"Ocean City, Maryland."

"So wait...we're backtracking 150 miles just so we can start where highway 50 starts?"

Tony smiled. "Exactly. I'm glad you've caught up."

Tim rolled his eyes, but he wasn't as angry as he had been and Tony was glad to see it.

"You're nuts, Tony. This is way more than we've ever driven before on a road trip and it's a lot less planned."

"That's what makes it great. I've let you do too much planning on previous trips. This time, it's all open. We're driving all the way across the country! Literally! Coast to coast! And it's not coast to coast if we start in D.C."

Tim looked out the window for a while in silence, and Tony could see how bad it was. Even if he hadn't been able to tell by Tim's sudden outburst at his house, he could see it now. Tim was tense and angry, and something more that Tony couldn't tell yet. He'd already decided he wasn't going to ask any questions until they were so far from D.C. that Tim couldn't demand to be taken home. Until then, he would just try to get Tim to have some fun. Maybe some time relaxing would help him mellow out enough to talk about whatever the problem was.

"Wait a second," Tim said suddenly, pointing to a street sign.

"What?"

"We're on highway 50, right now!"

Tony grinned. "Yep. There aren't very many ways to get to Ocean City. The other major road would have taken us more than an hour longer. I figured we could save some time."

"Save time," Tim repeated.

"Yep. We already have a long way to go, Tim," Tony said. "Don't want to make it more difficult."

"Why are we bothering to drive over the same road we'll be driving again?"

"You know exactly why. That's the fun part of the road trip. So stop acting like you have no idea what's going on. We both know."

There was a double meaning in that, and Tony knew they both heard it, but they still didn't talk about it.

Silence fell once more and they drove without further comment. Once they got to Ocean City, Tony drove to a gas station to fill up and then, he navigated back to the beginning of U.S. Highway 50.

"Are you ready, Tim? We're officially beginning."

"I'm ready," Tim said.

He didn't exactly sound happy, but that anger had ebbed considerably, and Tony would take what he could get.

"Get out your camera. There's supposed to be a mile sign for the end of the road," Tony said.

Then, he pointed.

"There it is! Sacramento, 3073 miles!"

"Sacramento? You said San Francisco," Tim said.

"Well, there's an extension to San Francisco, and we have to go coast to coast! Sacramento isn't on the coast. I'm declaring that we're going all the way to San Francisco."

"Okay. It's your car."

"That's right it is. Get a picture before we miss it."

Obediently, Tim took a picture and they were off. ...back over the road they'd been on to get there in the first place.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim sat there, staring out the windshield, wishing that he could really enjoy this trip, but he just couldn't. His mind kept recycling what had happened and he wasn't ready to let go of his anger yet. Actually, right at this moment, he felt like he shouldn't _have_ to let go of it. He should be allowed to be furious. Maybe what he had done was little over the line, but considering the offense, he felt that he was completely justified in his actions.

With a deep breath, he tried to push that away. Maybe with distractions, he could escape from all of that for a while.

Maybe.

 _I doubt it,_ Tim thought to himself.

They were almost to DC, and according to the map, they'd be going through it and out the other side into Fairfax and out into the forests of West Virginia.

"How far are we going today?" he asked.

"As far as we can get. I'm figuring we can get most of the way through West Virginia before we should stop."

"That kind of defeats the purpose of the road trip, doesn't it?" Tim asked. "If we're just driving as far as we can every day, we're not really seeing or doing anything."

"It's just for today. I want to get us as far from home as I can so you can't just make a break for it and start running."

Tim raised an eyebrow.

"Do you really think that I'd do that?"

"I wouldn't put it past you," Tony said.

"If I was going to do something like that, I just would have refused to go in the first place," Tim said. "I wouldn't waste your time like that."

"That's nice to know."

"This isn't going to help, Tony," Tim said, deciding to address the reason for the trip at the outset. "It's nice of you to try, but I can't talk about it, and I don't want to anyway, and even if I did, it won't change anything."

"Fine," Tony said. "I need the vacation anyway."

Tim was a little surprised, but he didn't really trust Tony to be quite so obvious. They'd both already referred to the first road trip and the comparison could be made.

 _But it's different this time,_ Tim thought. _It's not about something messed up in my head. It's real this time. I wish that it was just in my head. That would be better._

"Why can't you talk about it?" Tony asked, cutting through Tim's thoughts.

"Because that's part of the requirements of the case. Until it hits the news, as it will eventually, none of us are supposed to say anything to anyone. I haven't even told Delilah, so I'm definitely not telling you."

"What if it never hits the news?" Tony asked.

"It will. Someone will talk. It'll be impossible to hide forever," Tim said, softly. "I just hope my name isn't in the story when it comes out."

"What about Gibbs?" Tony asked.

"What about him?" Tim said, the anger swelling up instantly. "I'd sooner kill him than look at him again. Serves him right if his name is in there."

"Whoa. Kill him?"

"Yes," Tim said, staring darkly out the window, not wanting to see Tony's expression.

"I think you mean it."

"I do."

"Does he know that?"

"If he doesn't, then, he definitely missed the boat on intelligence," Tim said. "After I punched him in the face, he should have no doubt about how I feel."

"Wait, you punched _Gibbs_?"

He almost sounded scandalized, Tim thought. He laughed a little.

"Yes. I punched him as hard as I could, and felt great satisfaction when he fell. If you'd gone to see him, you probably could have seen the bruise. It hurt _my_ hand enough."

Tim held up his right hand, although he didn't verify that Tony actually looked at it. The cracked and bruised knuckles were there to be seen if one knew to look. It had been worse the week before. In fact, Delilah had made him get an x ray just to make sure that he hadn't broken any bones. He was just bruised and bloodied. Not broken. He didn't know about Gibbs, and quite frankly, he didn't care.

"Sounds like it was bad," Tony said.

"You have no idea," Tim said. "But I can't talk about it."

"And you don't want to."

"Exactly."

"So really, this whole can't talk about it thing is really an excuse."

"No."

"Yeah, it is," Tony said, sounding amused. "You can fall back on that whenever someone tries to push you to talk about it. You're probably dreading the time when you don't have that excuse."

Tim just shrugged and let the silence fall again. He rubbed at his bruised knuckles, trying to hold onto the satisfaction of hitting Gibbs, rather than the anguish that surrounded that moment.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

 _Tim only waited long enough to check on his team. Then, he ran out of the house and found Gibbs. He strode over to him and shoved him as hard as he could. Gibbs managed to stay on his feet, but it was a close thing. Tim's team was on his heels and they tried to hold him back. He shook them off and got in Gibbs' face._

" _What's wrong with you?" Tim demanded. "You were supposed to_ wait _! We had agreed!"_

" _You were taking too long. It was going to be too late," Gibbs said. "They were moving."_

" _No! You were just impatient! You didn't give us any warning before you moved in!"_

" _You got warning."_

" _Not enough!" Tim said, infuriated. "You hung us out to dry! We weren't ready! I told you we weren't in place for you to come in! I told you that! You know what they were willing to do. You can't just change the plan in the middle!"_

" _You were taking too long, McGee," Gibbs said again. "They would have got away if we kept to your plan. Plans have to change when circumstances change."_

" _Well, they won't get away now, will they," Tim said, feeling both grief and rage at what he said._

" _You made sure of that."_

" _This is your fault, Gibbs," Tim said. "What happened in there is on you."_

" _Is that going to make you feel any better?"_

 _Enraged and shocked by how badly things had gone, Tim let go of his tenuous control on his temper._

" _No, but this is," he said._

 _Probably, the only reason he got away with it was because it was so out of character. No one would ever expect him to throw a punch, not even his team, but Tim didn't care about that. He hauled back and punched Gibbs as hard as he could. Gibbs' head snapped back and he fell to the ground. Tim's own fist exploded with pain and he shook it to try and stop the pain._

" _Now, you know how I feel, Gibbs!" he said. "Maybe just a little."_

 _Then, he shook off the hands of his team who were trying to hold him back again and walked away, knowing that if he stayed any longer, he'd cause permanent damage._

 _To someone._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony saw what Delilah must have been seeing over the last two weeks. Tim's hands clenched into fists, the right one with fading bruises, and he was clearly not seeing anything in the real world. He was reliving whatever had been so bad that it had led Tim to physical violence. Really, Tony was shocked that Tim had resorted to that kind of response, no matter what the stimulus was. He just wasn't a physical guy. He might even yell, but punching someone? Even more, punching _Gibbs_? It must have been horrifyingly bad for Tim to lose that much control of himself. They'd had an altercation once, but it had been a case of mutual frustration and it really hadn't amounted to much. This sounded like he had tried to cause serious injury.

He hadn't planned it, but maybe it would be worthwhile to call Gibbs and see what _he'd_ say. Tim was obviously not willing to talk about it right now. Maybe he could get something from Gibbs.

As long as Tim wasn't around to hear him.

Tony thought back to what Chaz had said, that Tony needed his own vacation, not one with someone who needed help. There was something to that. This was unlikely to be extremely relaxing, but at the same time, Tony felt that he was better off when he was doing something productive. Wallowing in one's sorrows was all well and good, but for Tony, he liked being able to set it aside. Of course, it was better to set it aside for fun stuff, but he could set it aside for serious stuff, too. It would help, either way.

For the first few hours, they stopped only for gas and to get some food, and there was very little talking. Tony was deciding what they should do to officially get the road trip going. Tim treated like a silly thing, but Tony was serious about starting with something unplanned. He just hadn't seen anything to stop for yet. It was just places they'd been a million times or trees.

"Tony, pull over," Tim said, suddenly.

"What?"

"Pull over."

"Okay."

He pulled over in what looked like a tiny town without anything really going on. He looked at Tim. To his surprise, Tim smiled. It wasn't completely happy, but it was better than the bitterness.

"Okay. We've stopped. Now what?"

"Now, you get out of the car and pose by the West Virginia sign and I'll take your picture. Then, we'll walk over to the Virginia sign and you'll take my picture while I'm standing in front. You said we'll be driving through twelve states. We've missed Maryland, but we can get that on the way back. We might as well document each one."

Tony raised an eyebrow, and Tim's smile, although strained, was real.

"Can't have a road trip without an unplanned stop, right?" Tim said.

Tony grinned, appreciating the effort Tim was making right now.

"That's right, Probie. Okay. I'll pose."

Tony ran over to the West Virginia sign and posed. Then, they walked across the street to the Virginia sign and Tim posed.

"Anything else?" Tony asked.

"I don't think so," Tim said.

"Good. Let's get going. I think we can make it to Parkersburg before we stop and that's big enough to have some hotels."

"Okay. You want me to drive?" Tim asked. "You've done it all so far."

"Are you okay with driving?" Tony asked, seriously, hoping that Tim wouldn't be upset by the question.

Thankfully, Tim appeared to think about it as seriously as Tony had asked it. Then, he nodded.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'll let you know if I'm not."

"Okay. Then, it would be nice to have a break."

"Then, I'll drive," Tim said.

Tony handed him the keys and they switched sides. Tim started driving. Before he'd been driving for very long, though, something caught both their eyes.

"Capon Bridge," Tony read. "You think there's really a bridge?"

"Must have been at some time," Tim said.

"If there is one, we're taking a picture of it."

"Okay."

A little further on, and there it was. A bridge over the Cacapon River appeared. Obediently, Tim pulled over where he could and they took a couple of pictures of the bridge, including the sign saying that trucks and buses had to go over on their own. Then, they got back into the car again and kept driving.

As they made their way through West Virginia, it was still silent more often than not. The radio was playing, but for part of the way, they didn't even have any radio stations. Tony hadn't been willing to pay for satellite radio. As the sun started toward the horizon (it was fall, meaning warm enough for traveling, but the sun was setting earlier), Tim suddenly started the conversation up again.

"Don't feel bad if this doesn't help me at all, Tony," he said, softly as he drove. "This is just not the kind of thing that can be helped by a road trip. I hope it helps you."

"Well, if you start with that kind of attitude, of course, it won't help."

"This isn't like the first time," Tim said. "I'm not scared of something that isn't real and falling apart because of it. I'm angry at something that really happened and just wishing it had never happened. A road trip can't make that go away."

"Talking usually helps."

"Not this time," Tim said.

Tony saw Tim's grip on the wheel become white-knuckled.

"You need me to take over driving?" he asked.

Tim took a deep breath and his grip eased.

"No. I'm fine."

"Okay."

There wasn't much to see beyond trees, but the road was wide and the driving was easy. So Tony didn't push it. It wasn't like there was bumper-to-bumper traffic that would cause extra stress anyway. A car or two, but nothing much more than that. As they closed in on Parkersburg, it was nearly full dark.

"Okay. Time to find a hotel," Tony said. He pulled out his phone and did a search.

"How far off the highway are you willing to have us drive?" Tim asked.

Tony grinned. "As little as possible, but I'll be willing to go a little bit if we need to or if there's something really cool to see."

"Good to know."

"Aha. We won't have to tonight. There's a Travelodge and a Red Roof Inn right off the highway. Reviews are mixed, but most say that they're basic, a little old, but very cheap."

"Sounds fine to me," Tim said.

A few more miles and they saw the signs. Tony directed Tim to the Travelodge. They got a room, walked in, dropped their things and then sat down and stared at each other in silence.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"So..." Tony started.

"Delilah told me to call her every night. I said I would," Tim said. "You can shower first."

"Sure. Okay."

Tim watched Tony go into the bathroom and sighed. This really wasn't how he wanted to spend his time away from work, but he could see that Tony was concerned and that he was trying to help.

 _I just wish he wouldn't bother._

But for now, he did need to call Delilah. He pulled out his phone and called home. Delilah answered on the first ring.

" _Tim! I'm so glad you called."_

"I told you I would," Tim said.

" _I know."_

"We're in Parkersburg, West Virginia, just over the border from Ohio."

" _Did you have fun?"_

"No, but that's not the point of this, and everyone knows it."

" _Tim."_

"Delilah, I'm doing this, but don't pretend that it's just a simple road trip. It never is, but it's really not, this time. This is you and Tony deciding that I need to do it."

" _You don't think you need it?"_

"I think that what I need is not going to come on a road trip."

" _Then, where is it going to come from? Tim, you can't deny that you need something."_

"What I need is something that can't happen. I just need to deal with it and a road trip won't fix anything."

" _Give it a chance, Tim. If I'm wrong, you can tell me so when you get back."_

Tim smiled grudgingly. "I'll hold you to that."

" _And if I'm right, I'll tell you so when you get back."_

"If you're right, I'll be happy to let you."

" _That's what I want for you, Tim. I want you to be happy. Tommy's already asleep, but maybe tomorrow you could call a little earlier? He was asking for you today."_

Tim seriously doubted that Tommy had noticed he was missing. He'd notice if Delilah was missing because she was Mom, but Dad wasn't as big a deal, not yet.

"I'm sure he'll be fine...but I'll try to call earlier tomorrow."

" _Tim, please don't shut us out. Even if that's not what you think you're doing. It's what's happening, and I don't want that to happen."_

Tim couldn't honestly deny it. He just couldn't explain why it felt like he had to. He couldn't even really explain it to himself.

"I love you," he said, softly.

" _I love you, too. Call me tomorrow."_

"I will."

" _Bye."_

"Bye."

Tim hung up and then lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling until the bathroom door opened and Tony came out.

"How's the shower?" Tim asked, not sitting up.

"Basic, but the water got hot and there's good pressure."

"Okay."

"How was Delilah?"

"Worried," Tim said.

"So am I."

"I know. I'm sorry I can't make that go away."

Tim pushed himself up and grabbed some clothes to change into.

"Tim, you don't have to..."

Tim just shook his head and walked into the bathroom. It wasn't that he didn't know people were worried about him. It wasn't even that he didn't realize he was acting worryingly. It was just that he couldn't bring himself to do anything about it. It required a fight he just couldn't manage.

Because he couldn't let go of that moment.

He sat down on the toilet and dropped his head into his hands. It was so much easier just to be angry at Gibbs...and since Gibbs deserved that anger, he didn't feel any inclination to let it go. Maybe if he stayed angry long enough, he could forget the other stuff.

He sat there for a while.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony looked at the closed door and wondered how long he should expect Tim to be in there and how long he should _let_ him be in there before he started to worry. There was just something so hopeless in everything Tim said.

He pulled out his phone to call Gibbs and was surprised when it started ringing. He answered quickly.

"DiNozzo."

" _Tony, I just go off the phone with Tim. Has he said anything to you?"_

Even though it wasn't funny, Tony couldn't help laughing.

"Delilah, it's only been a day. The first time I took him on a road trip to force him to talk, it took three days to get him to say anything, and _that_ was with him on the verge of a physical and mental meltdown. He's not in that situation this time. He can hold it in as long as he wants to, and really, even though it's frustrating, it's better that he's not that fragile."

" _I know,"_ Delilah said. _"I know you're right. It's just that...every time I look in his eyes, it's almost like the light's gone out and I'm afraid that I won't ever see it again. Whatever it was, Tony, it was so bad that...that it's eating him alive."_

"Is there something you haven't told me?"

" _No. Nothing that I know for sure."_

"Is there something you've guessed that you haven't told me?"

" _I'm just afraid that I'm going to lose him."_

"No," Tony said, quickly. "No. Tim would never go that route. Never."

" _I want to agree with you, but..."_

"No," Tony said again, more firmly. "That is not part of Tim's m.o. Don't even think it, Delilah. Have you told his parents?"

" _No. He doesn't want to tell them, either."_

"Yeah, figures. Well, something will give. It's got to. Eventually. And maybe it'll just be that this wears him down enough that he'll listen when we tell him he needs help."

" _I hope you're right."_

"I am," Tony said, with more confidence than he actually felt.

" _Okay. I got you into this. I'll trust you."_

"I'm glad you did and I hope you do."

Delilah actually laughed a little.

" _Maybe I just needed an outside voice to counteract everything I've been thinking."_

"Sounds like you need a vacation."

" _You have no idea."_

"Actually, I do have an idea, but give him time. It might take a while, but he'll get through this. I know he will."

" _Thanks, Tony."_

"Anytime. Good night."

" _Good night."_

Tony hung up. He wasn't sure if Tim would get through it on his own or not. In fact, that really didn't worry him, but at the same time, he got through it the first time. He could do it again and at least he was in better physical health.

But he still wanted to talk to Gibbs. But he didn't want Tim hearing him talk to Gibbs when even the mention of Gibbs' name was enough to drive Tim into a rage. Then, suddenly, the shower went on. What Tim had been doing before, Tony didn't know, but this was the perfect opportunity.

Decision made, he dialed Gibbs' number. It rang a number of times and went to voice mail. Tony furrowed his brow and decided to leave a message.

"Hey, Boss. It's Tony. I need to talk to you. Call back. Don't break rule 3."

Then, he hung up and waited.

For thirty seconds.

His phone rang and he answered on the first ring, smiling a little.

"Hey, Boss," he said.

" _What do you want, DiNozzo?"_

"That's a cheery greeting," Tony said. "Almost as cheery as Tim is right now."

" _What do you want?"_

"To know what happened that made Tim punch you in the face and want you dead."

" _Can't talk about it. We're supposed to keep it to ourselves until media gets hold of it."_

"Come on, Boss. That's the same lame excuse McGee is using. Both of you know that I won't spread it around. Did you know that Tim wishes you were dead?"

There was a long pause.

" _Yeah, Tony. It would be kind of hard to miss it."_

"Why does he feel that way?"

Another long pause.

" _Because he should."_

"But why, Boss?" Tony asked. "I'm really worried about Tim right now. We're on a road trip because he's been put on leave from work."

" _I've been suspended, too."_

That gave Tony a pause. Up to this point, he'd been thinking it was just Tim flying off the handle for something, but if Gibbs had been suspended, then, something really had gone wrong. With Gibbs speaking in little more than a monotone, it seemed that he'd been hit hard, too.

"Suspended? Not just leave?"

" _Suspended. Not just leave."_

"Why? What did you do?"

" _Can't talk about it."_

"What _can_ you talk about, then? Was it as bad as it seems?"

" _Yes. Worse."_

"Worse?"

" _Yeah. Much worse."_

"Tim seems to think it was your fault. Was it?"

" _I don't know. Maybe."_ There was another pause. _"What happened to Tim was my fault. The rest of it. I don't know."_

"What happened to Tim was separate?"

" _No. I wouldn't have cared as much about blame if things had gone right."_

The shower went off, and Tony was sure that Tim wouldn't take conversation with the enemy very well at this point. It was enough to know that it really was that serious, that Gibbs was as deeply affected as Tim, albeit not in the same way, and something with a case had gone horribly wrong.

"Boss, do you know how long it'll take for the case to come out?"

" _No. Probably not much longer."_

"I've got to get off. Tim just got out the shower and he gets angry just hearing your name right now."

" _Doesn't surprise me."_

One more pause and it was long enough that Tony figured Gibbs was done. He was about to say good-bye when Gibbs spoke once more.

" _Tony, listen for a story involving an admiral and his family. That's all I can tell you until it comes out."_

"Okay. Thanks."

" _I hope it helps."_

Then, Gibbs hung up. Tony hung up, too, but he was feeling a little more unsettled than he had been. He had known it was serious and that it was really serious, but this was farther that that. What had happened to Tim that Gibbs admitted blame for? Clearly, it hadn't been anything physical, but the psychological stuff was usually worse, especially with Tim's history, and Tim definitely agreed that it was Gibbs' fault.

He set the phone down and wondered how long he should wait to start pushing. He'd have to push if it really was that bad. Tim would resist reliving it, but Tony was more convinced than ever that Tim _needed_ to talk about it. Hopefully, his excuse would be removed while they were traveling.

Forewarned was forearmed, and Tony wished he had a little more information. An admiral and his family. That was certainly something more, and if it was the family, too...

That would be bad for Gibbs and for Tim, too.

He looked toward the bathroom door. There was no sound coming from inside. How much longer should he give Tim to give some sign of life? He couldn't help but compare this to the morning in Wall when Tim had a meltdown because Tony had fallen asleep.

And then, the thought came to him... What if Delilah was right? After all, she was married to the guy. Maybe...

Cursing that he'd thought of it, Tony got up and walked over to the bathroom door. He knocked.

"Hey, Tim! Did you fall in?"

A heavy pause that had Tony ready to break the door down.

"Sorry, Tony," came the reply. "I can't think of a clever retort. I'm just slow."

Feeling a deeper relief than he'd ever admit, Tony forced himself to laugh.

"Okay. Just checking."

The door opened and Tim came out. In spite of the darkness Tony could still see, Tim smiled knowingly.

"Yeah, sure, you were," he said. "I'm ready for bed."

"Are you sleeping all right?" Tony asked.

Again, he was relieved when Tim just accepted the concern.

"Yeah." He almost looked like he was going to say more, but instead, he just nodded. "Yeah."

Then, he got into bed and rolled over to face the wall. Tony got into his own bed and turned out the light. He lay there and stared at the ceiling.

 _No, don't think like that,_ he thought to himself. _Tim isn't the kind of guy to do something so desperate. He's having trouble but he's not suicidal. No._

Eventually, he fell asleep.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It was dark and quiet. Tim opened his eyes, unsure of what had awakened him. If he was honest, sleeping was better than waking because, at least, in his sleep, he could escape from the reality for a little while. He was surprised that he hadn't been dreaming of it, but he was glad.

So why was he awake now?

Then, he heard something and he rolled over as quietly as possible.

The dark shape of Tony sat up in bed and let out a loud exhale. Then, he got out of bed and paced back and forth for a few minutes. Tim watched him in silence. For the first time since everything had gone pear-shaped, he was really noticing something else. A lot of the world had become a wash of noise to him. While he could acknowledge its existence, he didn't really interact with it all that much.

 _Tony said he'd had a rough few weeks. I guess he meant it,_ Tim thought. Actually, Tim had assumed that Tony was making it up just to get him to come on this trip. Then, like so much else, he had just put it aside and not thought about it.

But here was Tony at one a.m., walking around, not looking all that okay. Tim debated whether or not he should say anything.

He just lay there, though, watching Tony pace. Then, finally, he rolled back over to face the wall. Whatever it was, it couldn't be that bad. He heard Tony lay down after about ten more minutes.

He didn't know which of them fell asleep first.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Tony woke up at first light and was glad he'd been able to get back to sleep. It wasn't really a nightmare. It was just Milan's face. Bad enough that he'd had to deal with seeing him over and over again while he was awake. Did Milan have to invade his sleep, too?

He rolled over and looked at Tim who appeared to be asleep, still. At least the not-sleeping thing hadn't come back, although it did surprise him. He would have expected Tim to have trouble sleeping if things were that bad.

But then, he wasn't really hiding anything. This wasn't about a state of mind that had been allowed to take root before anyone realized. This was about Tim refusing to share details. So maybe he was just reliving it so much during the day that his mind escaped at night.

Still, it was a relief that Tim wasn't _that_ messed up, although he was plenty messed up as it was.

Suddenly, Tim flung both arms up over his head and started snoring. Even with everything that was going on, Tony found that more than a little amusing. A little bit of the ridiculous to cut through the drama. In fact, he picked up his phone and started recording Tim lying on his back with his mouth hanging open.

After a minute or two, he decided that enough was enough.

"McGee, we're going to get kicked out of the hotel if you keep making so much noise," he said loudly.

Tim snorted once and shifted around in bed.

"Tim, wake up!"

Tim's eyes shot open and he sat up, looking around blearily.

"What?"

"Ah, that's better," Tony said.

"What?" he said again.

"I thought my eardrums were going to burst from your loud snoring."

Tim woke up enough to hear him.

"I don't snore loud."

"Oh, yeah? Let me show you," Tony said.

He walked over and played back the video.

"See? You're lucky I don't have surround sound."

Tim looked a little embarrassed but he smiled.

"Surround sound? On your phone?"

Tony grinned.

"Exactly. Lucky you."

Then, he saw it happen. Tim remembered everything else and his eyes darkened. His smile faded away, leaving him looking even more bereft than before simply because the contrast was so obvious.

"I just need to get dressed. Then, I'll be ready to go," he said and walked over to his bag.

"Okay," Tony said, regretting the change.

Tim went into the bathroom and Tony shook his head. It really was there all the time. How long could Tim really tolerate the weight?

Two weeks so far.

They both got ready quickly and neither were all that inspired by the breakfast choices at the hotel. So they drove to a gas station to fill up and bought some coffee and donuts. When they took off, they were almost instantly in Ohio. They did stop to take a picture of the state line, but that was all. Tim was driving to start off.

"We'll be going right through Athens, you know," Tony said.

"I don't want to stop," Tim said, tersely.

"I figured. Just thought I'd ask."

"No thanks."

"Okay. But I saw something at a town called Chillicothe and I want to stop there."

Tim might have smiled a little. "The mounds?"

"Yes! How did you know?"

"I've been there."

"Well, I haven't."

"We can stop there. I don't mind. It's not far off the highway."

"Good."

Then, they fell silent as they wound through the trees, still on a divided highway. It was really easy driving, but not much to see.

After about half an hour, Tony suddenly leaned forward.

"Hey, look at that! Guysville! What a name for a town. We need a picture in front of a sign somewhere. Take that right!"

Tim made no comment, but he obediently turned right. They found themselves in a rather drab little town. They couldn't find any signs to photograph and so they drove back out and found a sign that had just the name of the town.

"You can pose," Tim said.

"Will do."

Tony stood by the sign and pointed at the Guysville on it.

"Excellent," Tony said. "Now, on to Chillicothe."

"Sure," Tim said and did smile a little.

Tony was glad to see the smile. Anytime that he could get any expression at all on Tim's face, he was glad to see it.

Tim kept driving through Athens and then on through to Chillicothe. It was about another hour and then, there was the sign for the Hopewell Culture National Historical Park. They got off there and went to the visitor's center, first. They walked through, looking at the displays, learning more about the prehistoric culture and learning about the mounds. Then, they walked out to the mounds themselves. They couldn't walk all around them and they didn't go to all the sites, but they walked out to one site and stood, staring at the mounds.

"Have you ever thought about how morbid this is?" Tim asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, it's history and it's cool and everything, but we're essentially staring at places where these people put their dead. We're coming to take pictures of a graveyard."

Tony wasn't sure how to take that, and so he just thought about it for a while.

"I don't think it's morbid. It's appreciating the past. That's a good thing. People take pictures of interesting graves today, too."

"It's still commemorating death," Tim said, softly.

"Death is a part of everything," Tony said. "Everyone dies eventually, Tim."

"Yeah. It's just a matter of when. And how."

"And who was there?" Tony suggested.

Tim looked at him with an inscrutable expression.

"Can't know that just by looking at some grassy mounds," he said. "Even if the grass was gone, all we'd see would be some bones and ashes. Can't tell anything from that."

"No. Not if they're not here to tell us."

Tim smiled a bit. "I'm not ready to start talking to the ghosts of ancient people."

"Me, neither. We can just appreciate the view now."

Morbid or not, they took some photos and walked around a little bit more. Then, they walked back to the car and started driving again. Tony pulled out an atlas and looked at the map.

"We could probably make it to St. Louis by tonight."

"Okay."

Somehow, this docile version of Tim was almost worse than the angry version he'd seen the day before. It was like staring at a blank wall. Tim was simply agreeing to whatever was said without any indication of how he actually felt. It was like he was daring Tony to try and breach that wall, almost taunting him with how in-control he was today.

"You're okay with that?"

Tim raised an eyebrow. "Should I not be? We've already established that you think this is necessary and I don't."

"No, what we've established is that I think this is necessary and you _know_ it is but won't admit it."

"I think we've come to different conclusions," Tim said, still with that same blankness. "But we've been to St. Louis before."

"Can't help that the highway goes through that area. We're not doing the same things. Even when we get to Kansas, the ball of twine is way north of where we'll be driving."

"Fine by me. This is your thing."

"This is _our_ thing. You just need to accept it. Besides, you like the road trips. If you're not going to accept any help, just enjoy the road trip."

"I'd enjoy it more if it was voluntary."

Tony forced himself to smile. "Well, that's not my fault. All you had to do was _want_ to come."

There was an involuntary smile on Tim's face.

"Sorry that I can't cater to your whims," he said.

Tony didn't bother to point out that it was Delilah who had suggested this. Whether Tim knew that already or not, it wasn't pertinent to what they were doing. He might as well think that Tony had come up with it.

They drove for a couple of hours, still not talking much. They stopped in Cincinnati and Tony took over the driving. They stopped a couple of times to take pictures of the Ohio River, but there was no real talking until they reached Indiana.

"Time for another photo shoot," Tony said as they neared the state line.

There was no reply.

He looked over and saw Tim with his eyes closed tightly. Tony could see that he must be reliving whatever had happened. As quickly as he could, he pulled over (thankfully, it was near the state sign) and then turned to Tim and shook him a little.

"Hey, Tim. Snap out of it!"

Tim opened his eyes and Tony could see the devastation before Tim managed to stuff it down again.

"Come on, Tim, you've got to talk about it," Tony said. "Whatever it is, you know I won't tell anyone."

Tim just shook his head and Tony guessed that he wasn't speaking because he didn't want to reveal just how shaken he was.

It was at that moment that Tony decided that Tim had been better off the first time. Up to now, he had taken Tim's physical debility as a piece that had made the first road trip much worse, but no. His physical problems had contributed to his opening up sooner. This Tim was bound and determined _not_ to say anything and he had something that he could fall back on to support his saying nothing _and_ he had the physical strength to hold it all in.

...until it all exploded out at once in an action that might leave everyone regretting it.

"No, Tony," Tim said. He stared out the windshield.

Tony sighed.

"Indiana," Tim said softly and got out of the car.

Tony followed, camera in hand, but when they reached the sign, Tim held out his hand.

"You pose this time. I'll take the picture."

"Okay."

He walked over and managed to smile. This might end up being another road trip where the pictures were simply depressing.

Tim took the picture and then stared at the sign.

"What is it?" Tony asked.

"'Indiana wants me. Lord, I can't go back there,'" Tim said, almost singing.

"That sounds familiar," Tony said.

"R. Dean Taylor," Tim said. "It's about a man who commits murder and then is running from the police. It ends with him being taken by the police."

"Happy song."

"Yeah. One version implied that he went down in a hail of bullets."

Then, Tim took a breath and shook his head. Back in control once more.

"That it?"

"Yeah. Let's go."

"Good."

They took off across Indiana, heading for Illinois. Again, there wasn't much talking. Just sitting and driving. By the time they were getting close to the Illinois border, they still had 200 miles to go and Tony needed a break.

"Loogootee," he read on the sign. "Never heard of it."

"Me, neither," Tim said.

"Okay. We'll get gas here and see if there's something around that we can get to easy and walk around a bit. I need to be out of the car."

"Okay," Tim said.

Tony glanced at him and saw that Tim was back to his docile, road-block expression. He stifled a sigh. Maybe this really was all that he could manage right now, but it was still borderline infuriating. He found a gas station and pulled up to a pump.

"I'll get this one," Tim said.

"Okay. I'll go in and get something to snack on."

"Okay."

Tony walked into the store and grabbed a couple of bottles of pop and some chips. Then, he went to the register.

"Hey, is there anything to see around here that's not too far off highway 50?" he asked.

The checker, obviously a high school student or just out of high school, seemed surprised to be asked.

"Uh...I don't know. There's not much to do around here."

"How about Hindostan Falls?"

The voice behind him made him turn. There was an older man waiting behind him.

"Hindostan Falls? What's that?" Tony asked.

"It's an old town site. Completely abandoned," the man said.

"Yeah, and it's supposed to be haunted," the checker added.

Tony turned back.

"Haunted?"

"Oh, come on. That's just people being stupid," the man said. "Any abandoned site and some idiot's gonna say that there are ghosts. I figure that ghosts have got better things to do than hang around an empty lot. Would _you_ want to hang around an empty lot?"

"Doesn't sound too appealing," Tony agreed.

"But there's a fishing place there and the river's nice. There's a plaque on the town site. It's just a little bit of local history. A boom town that went bust real quick."

"Could be interesting," Tony said. "Where is it?"

"Go back to Kentucky Avenue and turn right. It's about five miles down the road and you'll see a sign on a road going right and there's a sign. Follow that road and you'll get to the town site, no problem."

"Much to do?"

"Nope. Just look, mostly."

"Okay. Sounds like a place to go. We've been driving all day and need some time to stretch our legs."

"Where you headed?"

"San Francisco," Tony said, grinning.

"Wow. Why?"

"Just to drive the highway. Coast to coast."

The checker looked even more surprised at the idea, but the older man just nodded.

"Haven't done a road trip in years. Sounds like a good idea."

"I thought so."

"Enjoy!"

"Thanks!"

Tony paid for the snacks and then headed out to the car where Tim had just finished filling the tank.

"Got someplace to go," Tony said.

"Where?"

"Abandoned town site called Hindostan Falls. About five miles from here. All right with you?"

"Sure."

Tony rolled his eyes a little and got in the car. It turned out that finding the road to Hindostan Falls was extremely easy. They drove over to the old town site and got out. It was quiet, except for the river flowing by. No one was around. They both got out and started walking around.

"Sure is empty, isn't it," Tony said.

"Yeah. Completely abandoned. Nothing left," Tim said.

It appeared that this had managed to get Tim out of his bitter navel-gazing, even if it was only briefly. They took a few pictures around the town site and then walked down to the White River and the falls.

"They're not very high, are they," Tim said.

"No."

The falls stretched all the way across the river, but they were very gentle, perhaps a few feet high.

"I'll bet they disappear during high water," Tony said.

"Probably pretty close," Tim said.

They were both quiet for a few minutes, but suddenly, it was an easy silence, not the kind that had been around far too much on this trip.

"It's nothing like the Yukon River, though," Tim said softly.

"Not fair to compare it to that."

"I compare every river to the Yukon, now. And none of them compare. It's like...the Yukon is the ultimate river and everything else is just...a copy."

The conversation was so normal that Tony really wanted it to continue. It was just simple without any of the difficulties that he knew they couldn't avoid forever. But if they could avoid them for a little while, that would be nice.

"So what will happen if you see the Amazon or the Nile?"

Tim smiled. "Don't know. I've never seen them. Can't drive there."

"Well, not to the Nile, but technically, you could probably drive to the Amazon."

"Through the rain forest?" Tim said. "I doubt there are many roads through there. That's why there can be those tribes that have never had any outside contact."

"Well, maybe not along the whole thing, but somewhere..."

"Yeah, maybe. That's not really on my list of places to go."

"I can see that. Not really on mine, either." Tony lifted the camera. "Well, let's get a picture of the pitiful falls anyway. Go pose."

Tim obediently walked over close to the water and Tony took a couple of pictures. Tim was quiet but not overtly despairing. Then, he turned back to the river.

"This place," he said. "It _feels_ abandoned. It's empty. Alaska was empty, but not in the same way. It's empty because it's never been filled. This place was filled and then, everything was lost."

"Some people apparently say this place is haunted."

"Maybe," Tim said, smiling again, although there was little happiness in the smile. "But if it is, it's haunted by the living, not by the dead."

Tony could feel something very heavy beneath what Tim was saying, but since he didn't know the context, he didn't want to push it. Not yet.

"Well, you want to do any fishing before we go?"

Tim looked almost startled by the suggestion.

"Fishing?"

"Yeah. This place is a recreational site now. People come to fish on the river."

"I doubt we have time to waste trying to catch a fish," Tim said. "I'm ready to go."

"Okay. Let's go, then."

They headed back to the car, navigated back to the highway and continued west until they got to Illinois. They crossed the Wabash River and saw the sign coming. It was too high up to pose in front of it, so Tim just took a picture as Tony slowed down. Then, they kept going.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim found that time was passing for him in dollops. Nothing happened very quickly, but suddenly, it would be a while later and he was still staring out the windshield at nothing. But now, it was getting toward evening and Tommy would be going to bed. Delilah wanted him to call and talk to Tommy.

So he pulled out his phone.

"Who are you calling?" Tony asked.

"Delilah. She wanted me to call early enough to talk to Tommy before he went to bed."

"Don't sound so excited, McGee," Tony said.

"I won't," Tim said in reply. Then, he dialed home.

Delilah answered on the first ring.

" _Tim! Tommy's been asking for you and I told him that you'd be calling tonight."_

"Delilah, you don't have to act like Tommy misses me. He's not quite two. I'm not his mother. You're the one he'd miss."

" _No, Tim. I'm not acting. Tommy has been asking for Daddy all afternoon. He only stopped when I promised that you'd be calling."_

Faintly, Tim could hear Tommy's excited squeal as Delilah said that Daddy was on the phone. Then, before he was ready, he could hear Tommy breathing into the phone.

" _Say hi, Tommy."_

" _Hi, Daddy!"_

"Hi, Tommy," Tim said, even as his heart twisted. "Did you have fun today?"

" _Play marbles!"_

"That's great."

" _Love you!"_

"I love you, too, Tommy."

" _Come home, Daddy!"_

Almost, Tim wanted to cry at those words, and he knew that Tony would hear it in his voice, even if he managed to hold them back.

"I'll be home in a few days, Tommy. Don't worry."

" _Home, Daddy!"_

"I will, Tommy. In a few days. Be good for your mom, okay?"

" _Good! Yes!"_

" _I told you he'd been asking for you, Tim."_

Delilah was back on the phone.

"Yes, you did."

" _Tim, are you all right?"_

"Yeah."

Obviously, she could hear something in his voice, too.

" _I love you, Tim. Tommy and I both love you. Come home when you're ready."_

"I will. I'd better go."

" _All right. Thanks for calling."_

"You're welcome. Good night."

" _Good night."_

Tim hung up and waited for it.

"Are you okay?" Tony asked.

"No, but we both know that already."

"No, what was wrong? What did Tommy say that bugged you?"

"Nothing," Tim said and stared out his own window instead of the windshield.

Tony reached over and turned on the radio, letting music and DJs fill the empty space. As they got closer to St. Louis, it was full dark and Tony slowed down a little as he navigated the unfamiliar road.

"Find us a hotel, Tim," he said.

Tim pulled out his phone and started searching.

"There's a place on the other side of St. Louis that'll give us a good start tomorrow," he said after a few minutes.

"Great idea."

"It's a Holiday Inn."

"Sounds fine. Where is it?"

"Place called... Eureka."

"Eureka? Like gold rush Eureka?"

"I doubt it. I guess they found something else," Tim said.

"I guess so, and we found a hotel so I'm happy with that."

They got through St. Louis and Tim gave directions to the hotel. They checked in and went to a pretty nice room, lay down on their beds and both of them were asleep in seconds.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Tim woke up at four a.m., feeling wide awake. So much so that he knew he wouldn't be going back to sleep. However, they'd gone to bed relatively early and he figured he'd be fine for the day. He decided to lay where he was.

Then, he heard something.

The TV.

It was on. He slowly rolled over, keeping his eyes mostly closed and saw Tony sitting up on the bed, staring at the television. However long he'd been watching, he was obviously starting to droop.

Tim lay there, staring at this evidence of Tony being affected by something.

Again, he wondered if he should do something.

Again, he couldn't make himself move.

Again, he just lay there, watching as Tony slumped down and fell asleep with the TV still on.

As soon as it was clear that Tony was asleep, Tim sat up. The TV was on a news station, and it went to the current headlines.

No sign.

Yet.

" _They're moving out. Time's up, McGee. We don't take them here, we've lost them for good."_

" _No! Gibbs, you can't. We're not..."_

" _Too late, McGee. My team's coming in the front. You take the back."_

" _Gibbs!"_

 _He cursed and ran into the house, praying that his team had time to get in position. Around the corner and..._

Tim opened his eyes, trying to banish what happened next. He never could, but he could try. He sat there on the bed, no longer really there. He was back in that house, back when...

 _No. Stop it._

Still, it took every ounce of control he had not to break down into tears. He clenched his fists and pressed them tightly against his forehead. He was determined _not_ to do that. He wasn't going to cry. Crying would help nothing and he wasn't that weak, not now. It was one thing to cry when he was having a mental breakdown. He wasn't going to do that again.

He was clenching his fists so tightly that suddenly he realized that he'd drawn blood. He looked at the small beads of blood on his palms and hoped that Tony wouldn't notice. He shouldn't. How often did anyone look at another person's palms? Quietly, he reached over to the side table and grabbed a tissue. He pressed it against his palms and held it there for a few minutes.

Then, he looked at the time. Four-thirty a.m. If Tony had been awake for a while, Tim knew he shouldn't wake him early. Might as well give him the chance to get a bit more sleep. After all, Tim knew how it felt not to get enough.

The question was what he'd do while he was waiting for it to be late enough to start moving around.

He lay back down and stared at the ceiling.

Unwillingly, his mind flashed back to the case, to the beginning.

" _Agent McGee, you have the lead on this case, but we don't want to waste any time. I'm assigning another MCRT to work with you."_

" _Which one, Director?" Tim asked, although he was sure he knew._

 _Vance's expression was knowing._

" _Agent Gibbs'. Will that be a problem?"_

" _Are you sure you want me to be lead?" Tim asked. "He has more experience. I've only been a team lead for a few years."_

" _This is your case, Agent McGee. I believe Gibbs has a rule about that. Your case. Your lead. He shouldn't give you any problems. But there's too much at stake to leave this with one team, no matter whose team it is. Admiral Jenkins has opened every piece of his life to us, personal and professional. All he wants is a good ending."_

" _Yes, sir. That's all I want, too."_

" _I know that. Good luck, Agent McGee."_

" _Thank you, sir."_

Tim opened his eyes again and looked over. Five a.m. Another hour or two. Then, he could pretend to be waking up.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony woke up when he heard the bathroom door close. He sat up and looked at the clock. Seven a.m. He groaned. Not nearly enough sleep. He might have to have Tim drive to start off. He'd been up half the night before he finally got back to sleep. He could feel that tired edge that meant his reactions would be blunted. Maybe he could get some sleep in the car while they got going.

Reluctantly, he sat up and rubbed at his face. He waited for Tim to come out. When the door to the bathroom opened, Tim came out.

"How did you sleep?" Tony asked.

"Fine."

"Good. I didn't sleep so good. Could you drive first?"

"Yeah."

Typical monosyllabic answers. Still, he didn't look exhausted, as Tony himself felt. So he'd take that.

He quickly got ready. They went down and ate the free continental breakfast. Then, they got in the car and took off. Tony leaned over and turned on the radio. He was making it part of the routine so that he could possibly hear something about whatever had happened. Tim couldn't control the news cycle.

But for now, all he wanted was to catch up on some sleep.

"You mind if I get some sleep?" he asked.

"No. It's just an empty road. I can handle it."

"Okay. Good."

Tony reclined the seat and relaxed as much as he could, hearing the soft music and feeling the hum of the engine as Tim drove. He was worried about Tim, but for the moment, his own problems were going to take precedence.

And he needed sleep.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim glanced at Tony as he began to breathe deeply. Clearly, he hadn't had enough sleep during the night. If Tim were honest, he could have used another hour or two, but he would be fine. He wasn't particularly worried about drowsiness. He was so tense that drowsiness was not in the cards at all. Instead, he just focused on the road. It was a nice distraction from everything else.

Tony slept for a full two hours as Tim drove across Missouri. For nearly three hours, the only sound in the car was the radio and Tony's deep breathing. Finally, as they neared Kansas City, Tim was a little worried about getting through it and staying on the right road.

"Tony, could you wake up and make sure I get on the right exit?"

Tony sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"What?"

"Now, who's sleeping all the time?"

"Not me," Tony said, yawning. "I feel a lot better, though. So what is it?"

"We're getting close to Kansas City and I'm not sure where to go."

Tony looked around and grabbed the atlas. For a few minutes, he was studiously checking out their route.

"Okay. You don't have to go into Kansas City."

"Good."

"Looks like it joins up with 435 for a little bit."

"Okay. We need gas, too."

"All right. Let's get around Kansas City and then we'll fill up and I can drive for a while."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"Okay."

Tony dutifully played navigator as they skirted around Kansas City and headed for Kansas. They stopped and took a picture of the state line. Then, Tony scouted out a gas station and they stopped to fill up.

Tony got out of the car and stretched. In spite of everything, Tim found he could smile at Tony as he went through an elaborate stretching ritual. When Tony noticed his scrutiny, he grinned.

"Showing my appreciation for a smooth drive, Probie," he said. "I didn't wake up once during that drive."

"So much for the Show Me State, then."

"Huh?"

"Missouri is called the Show Me State. Nothing you wanted to see?"

"Oh. Well, we saw stuff when we came through here before. I need snacks. ...and a bathroom."

"I'll fill up," Tim said.

If it weren't for the weight that he couldn't get rid of, this would almost be normal. Tony seemed to feel the same way as his actions were normal without any sidelong glances. He filled up the tank and then went to the bathroom while Tony was buying snacks.

When he came out, Tony was ready to drive.

"Okay. So how far do you want to go?" he asked.

"I don't know," Tim said.

"Good. I don't, either, but we still have to decide. It's over 400 miles across Kansas, but I don't know that there's anything I want to see. Dorothy was excited to get out of Kansas."

Tim raised an eyebrow. "As I recall, she also was really happy to get back."

"Well, if you'd made a green witch melt into a puddle, you'd be happy for a little bit of boring, too."

And suddenly, Tim felt all his calm leech away, replaced by grief and anger and regret, and it was stupid because his situation was nothing like Dorothy's, but still...

And Tony could see it, too. It showed in his face. His smile faded and he looked almost sad.

"Hey, Tim..."

Tim just shook his head.

"I'm fine with getting all the way across Kansas today," he said and got into the car. "Let's do it."

"Okay."

Tony got in and started driving and Tim went back to looking out the window.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony sighed as Tim slid back into being dark and withdrawn. He had been thrilled when Tim had been acting so normally, hoping that things might be improving. It was worse seeing the near normal lost like nothing had happened. It was like the simplest thing pulled him away from being normal. How many people could possibly be hurt by _The Wizard of Oz_ references?

But Tim had been. For whatever reason, Tim had been and now, he was staring silently out the window as they drove across Kansas. And while it was greener than South Dakota had been, Tony had to admit that the seemingly never-ending fields got a bit boring, especially with the heavy silence inside the car. Towns arose, often marked by grain silos, and then receded behind them.

The hours passed with the same heavy silence. Every so often, Tony would point something out and Tim would monosyllabically acknowledge what he said and then subside back into silence.

Finally, after more than four hours, Tony saw something to attract his attention.

"Hey, Tim, look at that!" he said, pointing to a sign.

Tim glanced.

"What?"

"Dodge City!"

"So?"

"Wyatt Earp! The OK Corral! Well, the OK Corral was in Arizona, but Wyatt Earp was in Dodge City. It's the quintessential Old West town. We're stopping here."

"Okay," Tim said.

The first thing they saw was a feedlot overlook with a sign for Dodge City. Tony pulled over and made Tim stand by the sign. He managed a smile and then they looked at the view. The overall view was nice, but...

"It's a feedlot," Tim said.

"Yeah," Tony said.

"Why are we staring at a feedlot?"

"Because it's there."

"Of course." Tim paused. "How much longer are we staying to stare?"

"A few seconds."

Tim was silent and then, he looked at Tony. Tony could see the darkness in his eyes, but he could also see Tim making a bit of an effort.

"It's been a few seconds."

"Okay," Tony said, smiling. "We'll go."

"Good."

They got back into the car and started driving into the city. Tony saw the sign for Boot Hill and they drove there to take a picture with the Wyatt Earp statue. They got someone to take a photo of the two of them. Then, it was back in the car to drive around some more.

"We need to get gas and I'll see if someone has any suggestions for a place to stay near the border."

"You think a random person will know that?" Tim asked.

"Yep. I'm sure they have other people doing the same thing," Tony said.

"Okay. I'll fill up."

"You filled up last time," Tony said.

"I'll fill up, anyway," Tim said.

And that would mean he wouldn't have to talk to anyone, Tony realized. Well, if that was how he felt, Tony decided he'd allow it. For now. He went into the store and saw that the person at the counter was an older woman, probably in her late 50s or so. She would probably know something.

"Hey, we're driving through and have to get all the way through Kansas today. Is there anything else to see quick?"

"Which way are you going?"

"West."

"Highway 50?"

"Yep."

"What have you done already?"

"We went to Boot Hill and stopped at the overlook."

"Well, if you're on highway 50, you could stop at the Santa Fe Trail wagon ruts. Gives you a sense of how much traffic there was through here in the 19th century."

"Cool. Where is it?"

"Just a few miles west of town. You'll see the sign."

"Great. Thanks! What's the closest town to the border on highway 50?"

The woman thought for a few seconds.

"Coolidge. It's pretty small."

"Any hotels?"

"One that I know of. It's pretty good. Trail City Bed and Breakfast. It's small, but if you're lucky, there'll be a bed open."

"Sounds good. Thanks a lot."

"Welcome. You gonna buy anything or just talk?"

Tony grinned at the way she'd phrased it. She smiled back.

"I guess I will."

He grabbed some snacks and paid for them before heading back out to the car. They were back on the road in just a few minutes.

"We're going to stop at a place to see the Santa Fe Trail," he said.

"Okay," Tim said.

That was all.

They drove a few miles west of Dodge City and pulled over at the turn out. The sun was setting and it cast some interesting and colorful shadows over the area. Then, it was short walk over and they were staring at the Kansas prairie.

"Where are the ruts?" Tim asked.

"All over, I think," Tony said. Then, he looked a bit more. "Wait, over there in the grass. That's a track."

He took some pictures and Tim was looking, too. They could see some faint ruts.

"In a few more years, they'll probably be gone, " Tim said. "Nature is taking it back."

"Yeah. It's interesting, though."

Tim just nodded. They stayed for a few more minutes and then, it was back on the road for the last hundred miles they'd be driving today. Tony didn't suggest that Tim take over, even though he was driving more. He just didn't think that it was a good idea to have Tim driving a lot when he was still reliving whatever it was.

It was getting dark, and Tony was almost glad of it. Then, he could pretend that Tim wasn't sitting in the seat beside him, there but not there.

"Where are we going to?" Tim asked in the darkness.

"It's called Coolidge."

"Okay."

Silence.

"How much further?"

"About 50 miles, I think."

"Okay."

"You should call Delilah."

"Yeah."

Tim didn't move.

"Tim, call Delilah."

A sigh and then Tim shifted around and pulled out his phone.

"Hi, Delilah," Tim said, sounding more depressed than anything else. "Is Tommy awake?"

There was a pause.

"No, that's okay. It's later than I meant to call."

Lies. Tim probably wouldn't have called at all if Delilah hadn't made him. And he would have waited until even later if Tony hadn't pushed him.

"We're almost to Colorado. We'll be stopping in about an hour."

Another pause.

"No. I told you what I think."

Tony wasn't sure what the specific topic was, but Tim was sounding more than a little angry.

"I'm not going to pretend. I've never pretended!" Tim took a breath. "No. Yes, I'll still call tomorrow. Good night."

He hung up and put his phone away. Tony started to speak.

"Don't ask," Tim said, bitterly.

"Okay."

It was silent again, except for the radio, and they covered the last 50 miles to Coolidge. Luckily, the town was small and finding the bed and breakfast was easy. They pulled up and went in. There was a room available with two beds. They lugged their stuff inside and sat down and stared at each other.

"I'm going to shower tomorrow," Tim said. "I just want to go to bed."

"Okay."

Tim went into the bathroom and came back out a few minutes later. He lay down on one of the beds and rolled toward the wall. Tony watched. He wasn't all that excited about sleeping, but he knew he needed to, and some sleep was better than none. So he got ready for bed and then lay down and hoped for a better night than the one before.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

This time, Tim woke up almost by design. He didn't set his alarm, but he didn't sleep deeply and it was easy to wake up when he heard Tony get up out of bed and start walking around again. He silently opened his eyes and watched as Tony continued to pace around the small room.

And suddenly, he felt terrible. Tony was having trouble himself and Tim was selfishly focused only on his own pain, letting everyone else focus on his pain. How could he lie there without saying a word, without even trying to help?

And yet, it was really hard to get himself to do anything. He continued to silently berate himself for doing nothing, but he still did nothing.

Then, Tony sat down on the edge of the bed and looked to be preparing to go back to sleep. If it wasn't now, it was never.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Tim forced himself to sit up.

"What's wrong, Tony?" he whispered into the heavy silence.

Tony's head jerked up.

"What are you doing awake, McGee?" Tony asked, quietly.

"I don't know," he lied. "I just woke up. What's going on?"

"Is turn about fair play?"

Tim found he could smile at that, even as the reminder of what he was refusing to talk about made him think about it again.

"No," he said. "Not this time."

"It's nothing, Tim," Tony said. "I just had a rough case. That's all."

Tim tried to think of something besides himself.

"I remember hearing about something..." he trailed off. What had it been? He had even thought of calling Tony to ask about it...and then, his own case had begun and he hadn't thought of anything else.

"Mass shooting," Tony said. "Guy went ballistic and then..."

"What?"

"We figured out who it was and tracked him down. Spent three weeks on it and then we traced him to this little dock, tried to arrest him, but he killed himself before we could stop him. I spent three weeks trying to find the guy and then, all at once, he's gone and it's over."

"But it's not over," Tim whispered. "It never is, not that fast."

"Yeah. Been having a hard time getting away from him."

"Like Dearing."

Tony actually laughed a little. "Not so bad as that. I'm not afraid of him coming back. I'm just having a hard time letting go of the obsession. I keep seeing his face when I go to sleep. Name was Ensign Raymond Milan. Still don't know why he did it. Never got a chance to talk to him. No chance for justice. He's just dead. Like the people he killed. It just doesn't feel like the case really ended."

Maybe it was because it was dark and Tim didn't feel the need to hide anything. Maybe it was just the similarity to his own problems. Maybe it was friendship. Whatever it was, Tim felt that he could do something. Even if it wasn't very much.

He stood up and walked over to Tony's bed. Then, he sat down beside Tony and put an arm around his shoulders. He couldn't think of anything to say. So he didn't say anything. In fact, he was only half thinking about it. Most of him was back with his own problems.

After a few minutes of silence, Tony sat up.

"Don't worry about me, McGee. I'll be okay. I'm just a little wound up. That's why I wanted a vacation."

He brushed Tim's arm off his shoulders.

"We have a long day tomorrow. So we should get back to sleep."

"Will you?" Tim asked.

"Sure I will. Might take a little bit of time, but I will."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Go to bed, Tim. I'm fine."

Tim stood up, but he wasn't convinced.

"Yeah, right. Just like I am," he said.

"I'm better off than you," Tony said, a little pointedly. " _I'm_ talking about it."

"I can't," Tim said.

"You won't, but you could and you know it."

"No. I can't," Tim said.

Then, he lay back down and rolled over so that he wasn't facing Tony. He listened, though. It was another ten or fifteen minutes before Tony lay down again. He didn't know how long it took Tony to fall asleep, but Tim fell into a kind of in-between state. He wasn't really sleeping because he was aware of the hotel room around him, but he wasn't really awake because he was also seeing other things.

" _What happened?"_

" _Agent McGee, I heard..."_

" _No."_

" _What happened?"_

He could hear the echoes of the gunshots.

He could almost smell the gunpowder.

He could almost feel the blood on his hands.

He could hear the screams and the tears.

"Tim!"

It felt like he was drowning in memories. A sensory overload.

"Tim, wake up, man."

Suddenly, he was being shaken and he opened his eyes. Tony was staring at him in concern.

"Tim, can you hear me?"

"Yeah," Tim said.

Tony shook his head in relief.

"Good. You were starting to freak me out. I've been trying to wake you up for five minutes!"

"Really?"

Tim sat up and looked around. Sure enough, it was light outside. The entire night had passed somehow in what had seemed to be only a few minutes.

"Are you all right?"

Tim laughed and shook his head.

"No, but I'm awake." He swallowed and took a deep breath. "I'm going to shower."

"Tim, you need to talk about this."

Tim shook his head again.

"No. Nothing's changed."

He grabbed some clothes and went into the bathroom before Tony could push it even more.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony let out his breath in a whoosh. That had actually scared him. Tim's breathing had been erratic and his whole body had been tense when Tony had come out of the bathroom, but he wouldn't wake up. If something didn't give soon, one or the other of them would explode.

 _And it might be me this time,_ Tony thought to himself as he turned on the TV. He turned it to ZNN and saw that there was still nothing. So as he waited for Tim to get out, he pulled out the atlas and checked on how far they'd go today. It was day four and they had two weeks. They didn't really _need_ to push it, but Tony felt like they did anyway. Maybe they could spend a day or two actually relaxing in San Francisco. That would be nice.

There was a place called Delta in Utah. That looked to be right on the edge of where things got really desolate. They could stay the night there and then move on.

Tim came out a few minutes later.

"Feeling better?" Tony asked.

"Yeah."

"I was thinking that, we could drive as far as we can today and then get to San Francisco and maybe stay a day or two. What do you think?"

"Sure."

"Okay. Let's get going, then."

"Okay."

They packed up and got into the car. This day was singularly uneventful. They stopped at the Colorado border to take a photo. Otherwise, the only stops through Colorado were to get gas and have bathroom breaks. The first part was flat and boring. They passed through towns like Las Animas and La Junta that had originally come into existence because of the railroad and now were small towns, many of them looking rundown. Soon enough, however, they were headed for the Rockies. For much of the way through Colorado, the highway switched between divided and two lane, but as they got close to Utah, they could look forward to the point where Highway 50 joined up with I-70 and that meant they would make better time. They did stop at the Utah state line to take photos but then it was off again, and it didn't take much longer to get onto I-70.

"Thank goodness," Tony said as they merged onto the interstate. "I was so sick of being stuck behind cars in those canyons. At least now I can pass."

"There wasn't that much traffic," Tim said.

"All it takes is one slow car," Tony said. "And we had that."

"It gave us more time to take pictures."

"There are only so many pictures you can take of dry mountains."

They had switched off in the town of Delta, Colorado. They took some pictures as they went along, but it was mostly just driving.

As they drove through eastern Utah, the landscape began to change with the typical Rocky Mountains giving way to the San Rafael Swell, a large geologic feature consisting of sedimentary red rock. Instead of soaring mountains, they had mesas and canyons and eroding cliffs. It was beautiful, just in a different way.

"Make sure you get some pictures here, Tim," Tony said. "This is interesting."

"Okay."

Tim obediently snapped some photos. That was indicative of the level of conversation all through the day. Whatever Tim had been seeing in his sleep, it had further dampened his already dampened spirits.

They had developed the habit of topping off the tank every time they got to a town with a gas station, no matter the price of fuel. Tony knew that there were long stretches with no services and it was better safe than sorry. He had even stowed a 5-gallon tank in his trunk, just to be safe. Greenery briefly appeared around the town of Salina. Then, the highway branched away from the interstate again and they were headed north while I-70 continued off to the south.

It was now getting to be evening and Tony was heartily tired of driving, especially with no lively conversation happening to distract him, but he was leery about letting Tim drive for long periods when the driving might be challenging. He just didn't know what to expect.

When they got to Scipio, the highway joined I-15 for a few miles south before they jumped off again and headed toward their final stop of the day. It was nearly ten before the town of Delta, Utah appeared before them. Tony was exhausted and Tim was nearly mute. Tony got Tim to find them a hotel and they found a place with a vacancy. They took their stuff inside and both of them went to bed without speaking to each other.

Tim appeared to be asleep before Tony, and Tony roused himself enough to realize that Tim hadn't called Delilah. All things considered, she should have something. Quickly, he pulled out his phone and sent her a text message that they were safely at a hotel, both of them were really tired and that he'd make Tim call the next day. He didn't wait to see if there was a response.

Instead, hoping that tonight he'd get some real sleep, Tony rolled over and fell asleep in seconds.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim woke up at two a.m. and rolled over.

Tony appeared to be asleep. Good for him.

Tim didn't want to go through what he'd experienced the night before. All through the day, the feelings had come back to him. Over and over, making him want to withdraw more and more. A few times, he'd tried to connect with the world around him, but much of the day, after he'd stopped driving, had passed in dollops again. His mind insisted on replaying the horrific scene again and again. He had nearly got to the point where he could hide it. All he needed was to let go of that scene and focus on hating Gibbs instead. That would be better.

That was all he needed.

But for tonight, he didn't want to go through the miasma of pain and fear and grief again. He didn't want to hear all the sounds, see all the sights that he couldn't forget.

But he really was tired.

He lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to keep his mind away from...

" _Please, please help me."_

" _Shut up! No one's going to help you!"_

" _Let her go. This doesn't have to end badly."_

" _Yes, it does."_

" _Please, don't let him kill me. Please, don't let..."_

Over and over.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Tony woke up after a good night's sleep. He was thrilled about that and relieved. Then, he looked over at Tim. He was asleep and hopefully, it wouldn't be like yesterday morning. Nothing to do but find out.

"Hey, Tim. Time to wake up."

To his relief, Tim opened his eyes and looked over at him.

"Were you actually asleep?" Tony asked.

"Kind of," Tim said. "I heard you moving around, but I had been asleep before that."

"Well, are you ready for the emptiest part of the trip?"

"I guess so."

Tim sat up.

"You want to shower first?" Tony asked. "I'll let you find out the water situation."

"Ha," Tim said, sounding a little weary (making Tony wonder just how much sleep Tim had got). "That's fine."

"Good."

Tony walked over to the TV and turned it onto ZNN while Tim headed for the bathroom. The shower went on relatively quickly which removed that worry. Tony sat there, watching the news when, finally, after days of hoping for something to give, he saw it.

" _And in breaking news, we finally have confirmation of the death of Admiral Terrence Jenkins' wife. There had been rumors that she had been abducted, but the admiral had refused to speak to any media. We're now headed to the Washington Navy Yard where Matthias Terreton is waiting for a press conference. Matthias?"_

The image jumped to the familiar Yard. There was no sign of an admiral, just a lot of media personnel and the ZNN reporter.

" _Judy, we're still waiting for the arrival of Admiral Jenkins and NCIS Director Leon Vance. They convened this press conference after social media reported that Admiral Jenkins' wife, Allison, had not been seen for days and suspicions were being reported that something had happened to her, perhaps at the hands of her husband who has more than 30 years as a naval officer."_

There was a commotion behind the ZNN reporter and everyone turned as Vance and Admiral Jenkins came out to the crowd. There was a lot of shouting. Vance was standing just behind the admiral.

Admiral Jenkins stood silently without acknowledging a single shouted question. He just stared at them. Gradually, they faded out into silence.

" _Thank you. I have a statement to make. First, you all disgust me. My family has been through a terrible tragedy and have been trying to figure out how to live the rest our lives. And all you care about is getting the next big story. People who know nothing about me or my wife or our children have made disgusting accusations without evidence. You have no right to information about what we have been going through. No one in the world has a right to know what has been going on in our lives. None of you deserve any consideration in this situation. Not one. The only reason I am speaking now is because my children don't need the additional pain of their father being accused of a crime. We will take no questions and you will be better served to think long and hard about the degradation of your occupation when you will gather in the hopes of taking down an innocent and grieving man based on nothing more than hearsay, with no respect for my grief or the grief of my family. If you have family, I would like you to go home and look at them and think about how traumatized they would be if what they saw when they turned on the TV or got online was a statement about how their father might have killed their mother."_

Tony couldn't help smiling a little at the words of Admiral Jenkins. He was stoic and stern, giving a lecture to recalcitrant children rather than to respected journalists. And because of the situation, not one of them dared to protest. Then, his smile faded as he watched Vance lean forward and whisper to the admiral and then his expression as he shook his head.

" _My wife is dead,"_ Admiral Jenkins said. _"She and my youngest son and daughter were abducted three weeks ago and NCIS was working hard to get them back. The reason for their abduction was to get revenge on me. My children were found and saved. My wife was an innocent victim, sacrificed for revenge. I will carry that weight to my grave. However, I was not involved in her abduction. My only regret is that the attempts to get her back were not successful. The men who took her were killed in the process of trying to save her life. I have nothing but respect for the agents who sacrificed so much trying to find her. In the end, revenge meant more to these men than their own lives did. It is a tragedy, but it is a personal tragedy. I realize that I am a public figure by virtue of my rank, but this is still a personal tragedy and I will answer no questions. That's all."_

Admiral Jenkins walked away, Vance following along behind, both ignoring the few who wanted to ask for clarification.

Tony sat there and stared at the screen, not listening as Matthias Terreton sent it back to the studio where they would analyze and reanalyze every word. There must be more to it than just his wife being killed. That was sad, definitely. It was even tragic and Tim would be badly affected, but something more must be part of it to make Tim like this and now, it was time to push. It was just a matter of the exact timing. He had to wait until they were on the road in a place where Tim couldn't get away, not even by pulling over and getting out.

This stretch of road would be perfect.

The Loneliest Road in America.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"I'll drive," Tim said as they headed out to the car.

"No, I will," Tony said. "You've been driving first for the last few days and I got plenty of sleep last night."

Tim raised an eyebrow.

"Are you implying that I didn't?"

"Well, did you?" Tony asked.

Tim looked tired. There was no doubt about that.

"I have no interest in you getting us in an accident because you fell asleep at the wheel," Tony said. "This is supposed to be some of the most boring driving on our route and that means it'll be easy to fall asleep."

 _And I don't want you driving when I start pushing you to talk about what happened,_ Tony added silently to himself.

Tim didn't answer. He just got in on the passenger side.

Delta didn't have a whole lot of options as far as breakfast was concerned. In fact, McDonald's appeared to be about it. So they stopped to get gas and bought coffee and donuts again. Then, they were off into the most desolate part of their trip. Western Utah was virtually indistinguishable from Nevada. This part of the country was empty. The _No Services_ sign was telling.

When they reached the Nevada state line, they stopped to take a photo and filled up at the Border Inn gas station. The next stop was in Ely, Nevada. It was a larger town, about 4,000 people, and they were able to fill up and get some more snacks. Tim had taken a few pictures of the empty space around them, but there had been almost no conversation. In fact, Tim had seemed to be drowsing for much of the time.

After they got through Ely, Tony waited for all signs of civilization to fade away behind them. There was nothing behind them. Nothing ahead of them.

"I saw something on the TV this morning while you were showering," Tony said.

"What did you see?" Tim asked.

Tony could hear it in Tim's voice. Tim knew exactly what Tony had heard.

"A press conference. An Admiral Jenkins was talking about how his wife and children were abducted and how NCIS was involved in trying to get them back."

"So?"

Tim's voice was now angry, even with that one short word.

"So your excuse for not talking about it was that you were supposed to wait until the media found out. The media found out. I know that Admiral Jenkins' wife was killed. I know that his kids were saved. So what gives?"

"It's none of your business," Tim said. Definitely angry now. Angry and pained.

"Yes, it is, Tim," Tony said. "You're my friend. Besides, I've seen how you're affecting your family, too. That's not right, either."

"I just need some time," Tim exclaimed. "There's nothing wrong with needing time!"

"Only if you're actually trying to fix it," Tony said. "You're not! You're just sitting around, waiting for things to get better on their own and they can't! And I don't understand what got to you so much."

"A woman got killed, Tony!" Tim shouted. His voice was so loud that it actually startled Tony because he just hadn't been ready for it.

"Yeah, and you've seen that kind of thing how many times in the last fifteen years?"

"Never," Tim said, his voice suddenly a whisper. "Never. I've never seen it. Never."

Tony heard something in Tim's voice that told him this was getting into dangerous territory. He didn't know why, but he could tell that something was about to give and he shouldn't be driving.

Quickly, he pulled over, feeling the rumble strips as he slowed to a stop. He put the car in park and then was shocked when Tim suddenly opened the car door and got out. He started walking away from the car, not on the road, but off into the desert.

"Hey! Tim, stop!" Tony shouted. "You can't get away from this! Whatever it is! You're not going to get anywhere by walking off into the desert! All you'll get is sunstroke and dehydration! And that would suck!"

Tim stopped and didn't turn around, so Tony ran over, hoping that he wasn't going to be disturbing rattlesnakes or anything else that might kill them.

"Tim," he said again as he caught up.

Tim's eyes were closed and he was obviously clenching his teeth.

"Tim, talk to me. You can't keep doing this. I let you pretend that you had a reason not to say anything, but not anymore."

"No," Tim managed to say.

"Yes. And let's get back to the car before a snake bites us."

Tim shook his head, but Tony took hold of his arm and began pulling him toward the road.

"Tim, tell me what's going on. I called Gibbs to see if he would tell me anything."

That was the wrong thing to say. Tim pulled his arm away.

"I don't want to talk about Gibbs!" he shouted. "I don't want hear what he had to say! This is _his_ fault! I don't care about how he feels or what he thinks."

"Hey, stop it!" Tony said. "That's not why I called him. I called him because you weren't saying anything and I'm worried. If you didn't want me talking to _him_ , _you_ should have talked. But he didn't say much, either. What happened?"

He grabbed Tim's arm again, and Tim pulled away again, his hand clenched into a fist which he then brought to his forehead, his eyes closing again.

Tony walked over and grabbed Tim by the shoulders and shook him.

"Tim, this isn't going to go away. I don't know why you think it will. It didn't the first time. You needed help."

"I'm not crazy!" Tim said, through clenched teeth.

"I didn't say you were. I said you needed help getting through it last time."

"It's not the same! This is real! It's not in my head!"

"Yeah, and if it's real, then, it's worse than last time and you need help with it!"

"This wasn't my fault!" Tim said.

"I didn't say it was."

Tim opened his eyes and finally, he let Tony see the devastation. He had thought he was seeing it before, but he had only been seeing a small part of it. Now, he was seeing all of it. Whatever had happened had come close to destroying Tim completely.

"She was...right there, Tony," he said, voice shaking. "Right there. Begging me to save her. And I didn't. I couldn't. I tried. I really did. I tried, and I couldn't do it."

Tim was shaking as he tried not to break down. It was too hard for him, though. He was coming close to it. His voice shook even more.

"I can't...stop hearing her...begging me...to save her. I can't stop seeing it. I can't..."

"Tell me, Tim," Tony said, finally, keeping his hands on Tim's shoulders. "Tell me."

"He shot her. In the head. Right there. Mid...mid sentence. 'Please, don't let him kill me,' she said. He only let her say it twice. Two and half times. That's all. Then, he shot her. In the head."

Then, in a burst of movement, Tim tried to get away from the grief, to stop the emotional pain by turning back to the anger. He flung Tony's hands off his shoulders and turned away.

"And it wouldn't have happened if _Gibbs_ hadn't..."

"Hadn't what?"

Tim turned back, the grief and the anger warring for dominance in his expression.

"We were working together on the case. Vance asked us to work together. He told me to be lead. I would have been _fine_ with Gibbs taking the lead. He has more experience, but I was the one who first found out about it. Admiral Jenkins came to me, to my team. We were the ones working on it. Gibbs wanted to rush in when we figured out who it was. I said we needed to be careful and take some extra time to make sure that we could get to all of them." Tim had calmed slightly in the process of explaining himself, but he was far from stable at the moment.

"I can see that," Tony said, softly. It was true. He could see Gibbs wanting to take them by surprise by running in, and he could see Tim wanting to be more circumspect. And he could see why Gibbs didn't know who had been right. How could you ever tell in that situation?

"Gibbs' team was out front, in position to stop them if they made a run for it. My team was coming in from the back, trying to check on the position of every person. We had mikes and we had cameras. We were checking things out. I had found the two kids and Gibbs' team was set to go in that room, but we hadn't found...her...yet." Tim's voice choked as he got closer to it.

"What happened?" Tony asked for what felt like the millionth time.

"What happened?" Tim repeated, sounding angry again. "What happened is that Gibbs screwed everything up! He said they were moving and that he was going to move his team in from the front and we had to move in from the back. We had _agreed_! It was my case! My decision! He sent his team in and gave orders for my team to come in from the back. We had to scramble to get there to make sure that there was no outlet. We weren't in place! We were where we should have been! And _Gibbs_ made the decision to override everything I'd said! I had studied these people, Tony! My team had studied them. Sarah is a trained profiler. She knew what they were capable of! She knew that death was a likely possibility if they felt cornered! And Gibbs ignored all of that and ignored me! So I ran in."

And now the anger faded in the face of the stronger grief. Tim's face started to crumple again.

"I could hear Gibbs' team upstairs. I was in the back. And there they were. Allison and that low-life washout who had taken her. He had a gun to her head, Tony."

Tony could see where this was going and he was horrified on Tim's behalf. Like Gibbs had said, like Tim himself had said. This was a lot worse. It was one thing to know someone had died on your watch. It was another thing altogether to actually watch it happen and be helpless to stop it. Especially at such close quarters.

Tim breathed heavily as he tried not to break down again.

"If Gibbs hadn't..."

"Just tell me, Tim. Say it, even though I can tell what's coming."

"Why? You that much of a sadist, Tony?" Tim demanded. "You enjoy this?"

"No. I don't," Tony said, seriously. "I don't one bit, but I think you need to say it out loud."

"I have. To the shrink at my debriefing. Why do you think I was on leave?"

"Right. Well, do it anyway."

"He had his arm around her neck and the gun was to her head. I had my gun out. I tried to convince him to stop, but all he wanted was to cause pain. He didn't care about getting away, Tony. All he wanted to do was kill. She was begging me to save her and... He shot her in the head, Tony. I was right there and I couldn't stop him. I wasn't a good enough shot to get the little bit of him that was visible. I would have been more likely to kill her myself. He shot her in the head. ...and then, I shot him. Three shots. I didn't miss once. But what did it matter? She was dead. Dead." His face crumpled again. "It's all I can see. She died scared. She died when all she wanted was for me to do my job and save her. And Gibbs is the one who put me in that room. And when I told him, he didn't care."

Tony could see that it didn't matter if Gibbs had cared or not. Tim hadn't seen any sign of it, and in his grief, he had put the blame for it on the one person he could. Did Gibbs deserve it? Probably to some degree. Obviously, if he had been suspended, Vance had thought he did. But no matter what, Tim had been damaged by it and Tony had a sudden thought.

"Tim...are you afraid that it _was_ your fault?"

"It's not!" Tim shouted at him again. "It's not my fault! I was doing things right and..."

"And you're afraid that someone else would have been able to stop this from happening," Tony finished for him. "Like with Dearing."

"No! It's not like with Dearing. It's not that! This is real, Tony! It's real life!"

Tony could see that Tim didn't _want_ this to be anything like Dearing, but he could see some of the same fears that Tim had harbored ever since that bomb had gone off. He was afraid that Gibbs had made the right decision and Tim had been the one to screw up. He was afraid that someone else standing in that room would have saved Allison Jenkins, but because it was Tim, she had died. That heavy load Tim hadn't been able to shake off completely had come to a head in a situation that would have been hard for any agent to handle but was worse for Tim simply because of his previous problems. The problems he was trying to deny were at all related to this.

"Dearing was real life, too, Tim," he said. "Why are you trying to pretend there's no connection?"

"I'm not crazy!"

"You never were!" Tony said. "Even when you had your breakdown, you knew that it wasn't right, but you just couldn't fight the fear. Now, you're afraid again, and you're fighting back, but you're doing it by pretending it doesn't exist! And all that leaves you with is blaming yourself and hating Gibbs. And how does that help you?"

Tony wanted to smack Tim with how obtuse he was being.

"Is that what Delilah was saying?" he asked.

"What are you talking about?" Tim asked.

"The other night, you said that you weren't pretending. Was she saying the same thing?"

"No."

"Then, what was it?"

"That's none of your business!" Tim said.

"Yes, it is!" Tony said, loudly. "You _made_ it my business when you said that I was part of your family. Anything that's hurting you or hurting Delilah or hurting Tommy is _my_ business! Because, in my book, you don't walk out on family!"

"Yeah, what would _you_ know about that?" Tim shot back.

It was only the knowledge that Tim would berate himself for that question as soon as he calmed down that kept Tony from blowing a gasket.

"I know because I've seen it when it doesn't work that way," Tony said, forcing himself to be calm. "I know because I've seen too much of the opposite. I've got a good thing going here, Tim. I'm not walking away from it. No matter what you do to try to force me to give up on you, to let you withdraw from this stuff you just don't want to deal with. It's not happening. I'm in this for the long haul, and I'm not going to have to face Delilah or Tommy and let them know that you didn't make it home."

And suddenly, just like that, Tim started to sob. He covered his face with his hands as tears streamed down his cheeks. Tony didn't like seeing people cry. It made him feel helpless. Tears weren't something that were part of his normal experiences, especially when it came to men crying. Tough guys didn't cry. They didn't need to. They were tough. And that had been the environment in which Tony had lived most of his life. Even if Tim hadn't lived in that environment, Tony could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen Tim cry. In fact, before this moment, he could count on one _finger_ the number of times he'd seen Tim cry.

"Th-That's what I had to...to do," he whispered through his tears. "I-I had to...tell them that..."

Tony sighed in understanding, and all of Tim's actions at home made perfect sense. Every time Tim had seen Delilah and Tommy, he was reminded of the woman who would never be able to go home again. The woman he had watched die. The woman he couldn't save. The family torn apart. It had put him on this downward spiral that probably a large part of him felt he deserved for not saving Allison Jenkins.

He walked over to Tim and pulled him into a hug as Tim sobbed for the life he couldn't save and felt that he should have been able to save.

"I've got you, Tim. I get it. You're not alone in this. I promise. You're not alone...not even on the loneliest road in America."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

After a few minutes, Tim began to calm down a little. He was still shaking, but he wasn't sobbing audibly.

"Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"That...was a really...lame joke," Tim stammered and then let out a teary laugh.

Tony forced himself to laugh, too. It wasn't funny, but he still laughed.

"Had to get through to you somehow. But you keep insulting me like that and I might have to deck you."

Tim stepped back and Tony saw the stricken look in his eyes as he realized just _what_ he had said. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Tony shook his head.

"Don't worry about it, Tim. You've got enough to worry about, don't you?"

Tim shook his head. "N-No. Not...enough for... I'm sorry. It just...came out and... I'm sorry."

"Hey, I said it's fine."

"No! It's not fine! It was wrong. I... Tony, you've probably saved my life a million times and all I can do is insult you."

"Oh, come on," Tony said. "It's hardly all you do. We have three other road trips that show that's a lie. I would have done the first one and I would have done this one no matter what, but I wouldn't have done the others if you only insulted me." Then, Tony smiled more gently. "And focusing on something you didn't mean isn't going to make the other stuff go away."

Tim looked at the ground. Guilty as charged. Tony didn't doubt that Tim was being sincere in his apology, but it also shifted the focus away from what had happened. Saying something stupid and mean was much easier to deal with than what he'd seen. Tim's breathing was still shaky and he himself was still shaking. The initial outburst was done, but the damage remained.

Suddenly, for the first time since they'd left Ely, there was a car on the road. In fact, as it came nearer (going the opposite direction), it slowed down. Tim quickly turned away to hide his tear-streaked face.

"Hey, you guys okay?" a man called from his truck.

"Yeah, we're fine," Tony said, smiling and gesturing to the empty space around them. "Just enjoying the wide open spaces. We're from back east."

The man looked around, seeming unconvinced.

"It's open, all right. You sure you're all right?"

"Oh yeah, we're fine. Thanks!" Tony waved.

The man waved back and then continued on down the road.

"You're such a liar, Tony," Tim said softly after the truck was gone.

"About what?"

"We're not fine. I'm definitely not, and neither are you."

"Unless that guy was some kind of psychiatrist, we're fine as far as what he could have helped with. So I wasn't technically lying."

"Whatever," Tim said, sounding much more calm and more despondent.

Tony walked back over to Tim and put an arm around his shoulders.

"Hey, like I said, it's okay."

"Not from where I'm standing," Tim said.

Tony couldn't help it. He smiled and gently pushed Tim over a step and he stood in the same place.

"Yeah, I agree. It's no good from where you were standing. So come over and see things from my perspective."

Tim couldn't help it. Even upset as he still was, Tony's quip brought a smile to his face.

"I've never seen things from your perspective."

"That's for sure."

"I guess it's time to go home, now?" Tim suggested.

"What do you mean?"

"The point of this trip. You got me to talk. Now, it's over, right?"

"No way, man. We're almost there! Your problem just gave me an excuse."

"Tony, be serious," Tim said. "I know you said that you needed a vacation. I didn't think you meant it at first, but I can see that you do, and you shouldn't have to deal with me being like this. If we went back now, you could still get something good out of your time off. At the least, you could get away from me and my mental instability."

Tony felt his brow furrowing in confusion. They seemed to have moved to a different subject and he wasn't sure how it had happened.

"You're not mentally unstable."

"I'll bet Vance will disagree with you," Tim said. "I'm sure I'm headed for a demotion for this. Another breakdown? That's not the sign of a good team lead."

"Tim, knock it off. You're changing the subject again, and I'm surprised that this is easier to...well, no, I'm not. You're really good at knocking yourself down, but you don't need any more practice. You're an expert at treating yourself badly. Why don't you practice treating yourself well?"

Tim took a deep breath and walked over to the edge of the road and then sat down, staring out at the distant mountains. He didn't say anything. Tony wanted Tim to talk again, but he didn't seem to want to now that he'd said it once. He walked over and sat down by Tim.

"Tim, this wasn't your fault."

"I didn't say it was," Tim muttered. " _You_ said that."

Tony laughed.

"Don't start that again. We both know that it's been going through your mind. What you told me, Tim... You can't take that on you. You weren't ready to move in. You weren't ready to be confronted by that guy. You couldn't shoot. This wasn't your fault. You've got to let that go. And I don't know Allison Jenkins, but I'll bet she wouldn't want you to keep yourself from Delilah and Tommy because of that."

"I didn't do that."

"Yeah, you did. Delilah told me that you would sit there, staring at the wall. That's not appreciating what you have. That's punishing yourself."

"No," Tim said, shaking his head. "That's...not being able to think about anything else. It's seeing that moment repeated over and over again, wishing I could stop it."

"You can't. It's over and done with, Tim. You've got to let it go."

"Yeah, just like that," Tim whispered.

"No. Not just like that, but you have to _try_. You're not trying."

"How do you know?"

"Because, when you try, you usually do it. You don't push everything away and ignore it."

"I was trying to."

"But you weren't succeeding."

"No."

"And you're still not."

"No."

"Then, stop with that and face it head on. You don't have to do it alone. I'll be there. Delilah will be there. Tommy... can't really do much, but he loves you. You don't have to face something like this by yourself."

Tim reached down and picked up a few small rocks by the road.

"And what does that say about me? When I can't even handle my own problems?"

He threw the rocks hard and they landed out in the brush.

"I don't know. What do you _think_ it says?"

"It says that I'm not the kind of person who should be a team lead. That's twice I've been unable to deal with stress."

"Yeah. Twice. In how many years?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Yeah, it does. Why do you think the debriefing is required in things like this? It's because they _know_ you'll have a hard time with it. How did you get out of seeing the shrink anyway?"

"I went a few times and then stopped. I was already on leave. I can't go back until Vance clears it. And..."

"And what?"

"And I didn't want to...leave."

"Why not, Tim?"

"I was afraid of...seeing someone who would know what happened. Seeing someone who would ask and just remind me of it again. Afraid of..."

"What, Tim?" Tony asked.

Tim picked up some more rocks and threw them.

"What?" Tony asked again.

Abruptly, Tim got to his feet, trying to avoid looking Tony in the eye, obviously. Tony stayed where he was for the moment, to see if Tim would say it.

"Afraid of turning into the same person I was after all that stuff with Dearing. If I could just get away from it, if I could just..."

Tony stood up and walked over to Tim.

"No, Tim. I know that this is something that still gets to you, but you don't have to worry about that! It was a very specific thing. At a very specific time. You are not just going to fall apart at every moment."

"Just at the important ones," Tim said.

"No. You didn't do that. You said so. It wasn't until after."

Tim turned around.

"Just like the first time, Tony! I'm losing my mind because all I can think about is what happened. All I can see is him shooting her. All I can hear is her begging me to save her. The sound of the gun, her voice...cut off in the middle of it..." Tears threatened again. "I don't want to be that again! Okay? I don't want to, but I can't get my mind to work right."

Tim swore and tried to compose himself. He wouldn't look Tony in the eye. In fact, he closed his eyes again.

"'Please, don't let him kill me,'" Tim said. "That's all I can hear anymore. 'Please, don't let him kill me.' And I couldn't do that. I was looking in her eyes. One more step closer and I could have touched her." He breathed quickly for a few seconds. "How do I not hear that, Tony? How do I not see that? How do I stop...smelling it?"

Tony grabbed Tim by the shoulders again, trying to keep him from pulling away.

"By letting people help you. _I_ can see more than that, Tim. Delilah can see more than that. Let us see for you if you can't see past it for now."

Tim was quiet for a few seconds, but he opened his eyes and looked at Tony.

"I wanted to keep shooting him," he said, finally. "I knew he was dead, but I wanted to unload every bullet I had into his lifeless body. If I could have, I would have shot him in places where he would have felt pain but wouldn't have died right away. I wanted him to feel the same pain he was trying to make others feel. But he was dead. I didn't miss."

"And you didn't do that."

"No."

"What happened after?"

Tim tried to pull away again, but Tony held on this time, wanting Tim to keep grounded and focused.

"My team got in and saw that she was dead. They'd...heard the shots. Sarah asked me what happened. Weston asked me what happened. He checked the guy. I was already...on the floor. By her. There was no chance for either of them."

"And then?"

"Then..." Now, Tim's voice became thick with anger. "Then, I went out of the house, looking for Gibbs. I confronted him. I told him that he had made a mistake. He said that we were taking too long and they had started to move out, that we would have lost them again. I said that it was his fault. He asked if it would make me feel better. And I punched him. He didn't see it coming. I said that maybe he felt something that I had felt. Sarah and Weston started to hold me back, but I walked away. If I had stayed, I probably would have done more."

"And then?" Tony asked when Tim fell silent again.

"And then, I had to go to her son and daughter and tell them that their mother couldn't be with them anymore. I had to tell Vance that she was dead. I had to tell Admiral Jenkins. I had to tell the shrink. I had to say it over and over again. She's dead. She's dead. I kept having to tell people that she was dead. I felt like it was all I could say, all I was allowed to say, and I never wanted to say it again. So...thanks a lot."

But there was a bit of a smile, even through the pain. Tony smiled.

"You're welcome."

And again, he could see how all these painful tendrils had come together to make this harder for Tim than it would have been otherwise. He had apparently done his job perfectly (with the exception of punching out Gibbs, which while perhaps deserved wasn't really professional). He had struggled to execute every one of his responsibilities. He was the lead on the case. It was his job to tell everyone who needed to be told, no matter how broken up he was inside. It was his job and he would do it. Pushing through his pain until he was done and then, he couldn't push anymore and he had given up.

"What about Sarah and Weston?" Tony asked after a few minutes.

He'd met Tim's team before, but he didn't know them well enough to guess their reactions.

"What about them? They're still working. I've checked on them. They're fine. At least, as fine as they can be. They had a debriefing, too."

Tony smiled at Tim's sense of responsibility. Even in the midst of his own problems, he had checked on his team.

"Don't you think they're waiting for you to come back?"

"No. Not really. I think I shocked them," Tim said, sounding weary again. "Weston had a few years already, but Sarah was brand new, fresh out of FLETC. Vance had been talking about adding another agent to the team. I've really liked working with them."

"What? Do you think you won't be anymore?"

"I think they won't want to, even if, by some miracle, Vance doesn't take the team away from me. I lost it."

"If you did, it was only temporarily, and if they were scrambling as much as you said, they probably didn't mind you punching Gibbs."

Tim smiled a little at that.

"I know you saw Kate die...but I didn't."

"It wasn't the same," Tony said quickly. The last thing he wanted was to start analyzing what had happened when Ari had killed Kate.

"Why not?"

"Because it came out of nowhere," Tony said. "No way we could have done anything to stop it. There was no one to blame for not saving her. There was just Ari. It's not the same."

Tim just nodded. Whether that was because he agreed or because he noticed that Tony didn't really want to talk about it, he didn't pursue it, and Tony was grateful.

Tim walked back to the car and then looked back at Tony who was still standing there.

"Well, what now?" he asked. "You made me talk about it. We're still in the middle of Nevada. What now?"

Tony smiled and walked over to the driver's side. They were both leaning on the roof of the car.

"Now, we keep going. We see how far we can get today and then, we talk some more. I'm not the guy who wants to keep talking about stuff like this, but I think you need to."

"What if I disagree?"

"We'll have Delilah cast the deciding vote, and I think we both know who she'll side with in this case."

"I didn't call her last night."

"I know. I sent her a text to let her know we were both alive."

Tim nodded.

"And like I said before, we can take a couple of days in San Francisco to relax."

"Not if you're going to keep making me talk."

"True," Tony said, unapologetically. "We can still take a couple of days. Then, we can drive back on the interstate and it'll be a lot faster."

"And then?"

"And then, you start fighting to get over this instead of just sitting around. You go home and let your family help you. You start talking to a shrink again."

One other thing Tony _didn't_ say was that Tim needed to talk to Gibbs. He felt that the two of them needed to have an actual conversation, but since Tim still wasn't disposed to want to talk _about_ Gibbs, let alone _to_ Gibbs, Tony didn't want to mention it. Not just yet.

Tim said nothing to Tony's plan.

"Tim, you're not crazy. You're not losing your mind. And you'd be better off if you didn't think it was going to happen. You're struggling, and that's okay. As long as you're struggling to deal with it, not struggling to forget it because...you won't. Not ever. It's not the same, but I can still see Kate, even now. You can't forget something like this."

"You're not making me feel any better."

Tony smiled again. "That's not my job. My job is to be so annoying and pushy that you finally give in just to get me to leave you alone."

Tim didn't smile.

"I don't want that, Tony," he said softly.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want you to leave me alone." For just a moment, Tim looked ready to fall apart again, but then, he managed to rein himself in. "I don't want to be alone. I just feel like I am. I was alone in that house. I'm alone in my head...and it's only echoes I hear."

Tony opened the driver's side door and Tim followed suit. They got in the car and then, before he turned it on, he leaned over and gently thumped Tim on the shoulder.

"If you need me to, I'll talk louder, but you don't have to worry about being alone. Even if you feel that way, you're not."

Tim's smile was more a grimace than a smile, but he tried. Then, he looked out the windshield.

"'Don't let him kill me,'" he whispered.

"You did your best, Tim. No one's best would have been enough."

"I wish that made things better," Tim said.

"I know it doesn't, but you would have done it if you could, and everyone knows that."

"Doesn't feel like it matters."

"It will."

Tim took another deep breath.

"Well, we won't make it anywhere sitting here," he said.

"Good point. Let's get out of the desert."

Tony put the car in gear and started driving again.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Tim felt more drained than anything as they passed through Eureka (Tony insisted on taking pictures of the town name), got gas and continued on. In fact, he didn't really feel any better than he had before Tony had forced him to talk about everything that had happened. In his head, Tim couldn't help but worry that Tony agreed with Gibbs, that Tim was the one to blame. Of course, Tony wouldn't _say_ that. Not right now when Tim was falling apart at the seams. Right now, he would be trying to make Tim feel better, but it wouldn't stop him from thinking it.

The other eyes he couldn't stop seeing were those of Admiral Jenkins. He was a military man. He'd been in the Navy most of his life, and he was trained to take things like that in without losing his composure. But there was a split second when Tim had seen exactly how Admiral Jenkins was feeling. His heart was broken, but his children were there and he had not shown any of it. He had _thanked_ Tim for his efforts, something almost more painful than anything else.

Thanks for failing. That's what it felt like Admiral Jenkins was saying. Thanks for nothing.

Tim hadn't told anyone else what Allison Jenkins had said to him before she died. His account had not included that desperate plea. Of the three people who had heard it, two were dead.

It had all just happened so fast, and yet, he really hadn't believed it would happen at all. He knew the possibility was there, but until the man had actually pulled the trigger, Tim hadn't believed that he would have to witness something like that.

" _Please, don't let him kill me! Please, don't let him kill me! Please don't let..."_

Sobbing, pleading...and all for nothing.

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked over and saw Tony glance at him just for a moment.

"It's okay, Tim."

"No, it's not," Tim said.

"Yeah, it is."

Perversely, while he would never wish this on anyone, Tim had almost wished that Tony could relate a little bit. It wasn't the same, though. Tony had said it himself. It wasn't the same.

"What do you think, Tim? You want to make it all the way to San Francisco?" Tony asked suddenly.

Tim pulled himself out of the memories again.

"What?"

"You want to go all the way to San Francisco tonight? Or do you want to stop earlier?"

"We can go all the way...if _you_ can. I don't know if I can drive today."

Tony's smile was sympathetic.

"I can. I really did sleep well last night."

"Okay."

Tim was silent again, and he thought about their other road trips, how much fun they'd been. He hated that they were, yet again, having a terrible time because of him.

"I'm sorry, Tony," he said.

"I told you. Don't worry about it."

"No, not that... I'm sorry about that, too," Tim said. "I'm sorry that this road trip isn't any fun."

"We had some fun. And it was _your_ idea to stop at all the borders. I think that was great."

"No, you know it and I know it. This isn't fun. It's depressing. We're doing something that most people would do and have a blast and we're not. We're just dealing with it."

"Tim, stop it. I don't care if it's not fun."

Tim laughed humorlessly. "I know you're lying, but even if you're not, I _do_ care. I care that I can't get my brain out of this state. I care that I can't stop reliving that long enough to notice important things. I know it doesn't seem like it, but I care that I'm making people around me miserable. And I care that I just can't seem to do anything about it. I care about that, Tony!"

Another long silence.

"You know what, Tim? The first time with Dearing was better than all this."

"Speak for yourself," Tim muttered.

"I am. Because from what I can see, the stuff with Dearing started out bad and only got worse because you were too embarrassed to talk about it, thinking that it would go away. You were scared and knew you shouldn't be. Sound about right?"

Tim nodded without speaking. He didn't like hearing the description of his breakdown about Dearing. He didn't like remembering that time.

"This is worse because you're not really afraid. This isn't fear and embarrassment. You're angry. I just can't tell if you're more mad at yourself or at Gibbs."

Tim had to take a deep breath to keep himself from wanting to shout and rant about Gibbs. He wasn't going to get into that again. Once was enough.

"And then, you're hurting and you don't like that, either. So you keep trying to pretend, but you can't. But you're stubborn enough to keep trying, thinking that it'll work eventually. And you're not physically weak enough to listen to reason."

"What? That doesn't even make sense!" Tim said, more angrily than he really felt, but the lingering fury at Gibbs kept him from being calm.

"Sure it does," Tony said. "You weren't sleeping and it was so bad that you couldn't hide it. It only took a couple of days for you to tell me what was going on and then you just went with the fact that I knew. This time, you're not that fragile. You can keep fighting it, and even when you admit that there's something wrong, all you want to do is set it aside and stop talking about it."

"You're doing the same thing," Tim said, bitterly. "So don't lord that over me. You keep pretending that there's nothing wrong with you when you fully admitted that you have something bugging you."

"But the difference, Tim, is that I'm really not denying it. It's just not as bad as yours, and mine will get better with time. I don't think yours will."

"What makes me so special?"

"You saw an innocent woman get shot in the head while you were trying to save her," Tony said bluntly.

Tim winced at hearing it said so baldly.

"And it bothers you just _hearing_ it. Don't try to deny it. I saw it in your eyes, and I'm mostly focusing on the road. That _hurt_ , Tim."

"If you knew that, why did you say it?"

"Because you need to admit that you're doing this wrong. You need to let people help you, and you need to deal with this all. With help."

Tim refused to reply to that, and silence again reigned in the car as they went through Fallon, stopping to get gas, and then drove to Carson City where Tony insisted that they get a real meal. Tim simply agreed. They ate, filled up the car again and then kept going.

Tim was a little surprised when he realized that they would be going right beside Lake Tahoe. He'd never seen the lake before. He actually sat up to get a look at the water. It was supposed to be extremely clear and blue.

As they neared the lake, the road actually went right beside it.

"Take a picture of it, Tim," Tony said.

Tim just nodded and did as he was told.

"It's beautiful," Tim said, softly. It was probably the first thing he'd really noticed all through the trip.

"Yeah."

They went through a tunnel and then, Tony spotted a turnoff. He took it and they went to the shore of the lake. Without speaking, Tony parked and turned off the car. Then, they walked to the shoreline. This turnoff was more for people with boats, but there were a few spots for regular car and one was open. The sun was headed down, almost behind the mountains that ringed Lake Tahoe. Tim looked at the sunlight glinting off the water. It really was beautiful.

They took a few pictures. Tony made Tim be in some, and he was in some, too. Then, just when Tim thought he'd found some degree of equilibrium...

 _Please, don't let him kill me!"_

He grimaced and turned away from the beauty of the lake.

"No, Tim. Keep looking at the lake," Tony said.

"Why? We've seen it," Tim said.

"Stay here and look at the lake. The sun is going down. We need to watch it."

"We still have hours to go before we get to San Francisco," Tim said, turning away again. "It's going to be late."

"It'll be late anyway. Stay here and watch the sunset, Tim. It doesn't take very long."

"Why?"

"Because it's pretty."

Tim could tell Tony wouldn't let him _not_ watch the sunset, so he stood there and watched as the sun slowly descended until it was below the horizon, setting off a kaleidoscope of colors, reflecting off clouds Tim hadn't even noticed before. Once the sun was gone from view, Tony nodded.

"There. Now, we can go."

Tim, feeling a little bemused, followed Tony back to the car. They got in and Tony started driving. For another long while, there was mostly silence. They had their least impressive state line crossing as they went into California. It happened in the middle of Stateline, Nevada. A small green sign was all they got. But Tim took a picture without being prompted and they got gas one more time before heading off to the official end of Highway 50 in Sacramento and then to San Francisco at the end of I-80.

"Why watch the sunset?" Tim asked, finally.

"Why not? People like to watch sunsets, Tim. It's not weird."

"Yeah, but why then? We'll see it in San Francisco."

"Because you didn't want to look at it."

"What?"

"I'm starting to figure something out about you, Tim."

"Oh, really? What's that?" Tim asked, a little irritated.

"When you're really upset, you try to get away from anything good. I haven't figured out _why_ you do that, but you do. Nearly every time you get upset. That's what you do."

"All I did was turn away from a sunset, Tony."

"Yeah, right after you'd starting thinking about all that again. Or are you going to deny it?"

"So?"

"So you're not denying it."

Tim couldn't, so he said nothing. He knew Tony was feeling triumphant. He wanted to say something that would change things, but he couldn't. He refused to admit it.

It got dark and time continued to pass.

"Tim, call Delilah and then you need to find us a hotel in San Francisco. A really nice one. We need a treat."

" _In_ San Francisco?"

"In or near. But something amazing."

"Expensive."

"Yep."

"Okay."

"But call Delilah first. She'll be worrying."

"This won't help," Tim said.

"Just do it, Tim."

Tim took a breath and pulled out his phone. He dialed home.

" _Tim! I've been so worried! Tony texted me, but I was worried anyway. I'm glad you actually called. How are things going?"_

"Basically, the same."

" _Tim, I saw something about NCIS this morning. A press conference. That was your case, wasn't it."_

"Yeah."

" _I'm sorry, Tim. I don't know the details, but I'm seeing some of it."_

"Yeah, so did Tony."

Tim saw Tony glance over at him. He didn't like having personal conversations with an audience.

" _Meaning?"_

"He wouldn't let me get out of Nevada without talking about it," Tim said, smiling just a little bit.

"Oh, come on," Tony said.

Tim had known that would get a reaction.

" _So you told him?"_

"Yeah. Reluctantly."

" _Did it help?"_

"I don't think so, but I'm sure he'd disagree."

" _That's because you're feeling pessimistic...or maybe just extra stubborn. Where are you?"_

"Almost to Sacramento. We're going all the way to San Francisco. We'll stay for a day or two and then drive back."

" _Good. Tomorrow, Tim, call in the morning. I'm off work and Tommy really has been asking for you. Please, let him love you."_

"I'll call," Tim said, trying to ignore the pang. If he was honest, he missed Tommy. He hadn't been away from him for this long, ever. A day or two, but not a week. It was hard.

" _Promise?"_

"I promise."

" _I won't make you talk to me about it over the phone, but please let me talk to you when you get back."_

Tim wasn't sure he wanted to make that promise, but Delilah wasn't done.

" _And I know you might be mad at me for it, but I called Dr. Bourning."_

"You what?"

" _I called Dr. Bourning, and Tim, you need to talk to him. Even if you refuse to talk to me, you need to talk to him."_

Tim wanted to be mad about Delilah calling his psychiatrist, but he couldn't. Whether because he knew she was right or because he just didn't have the energy to be mad after the extremes of today.

"I can't make any promises on that," Tim said. "Not right now."

" _Okay, but I'm not giving up on you, Tim. You're not allowed to give up on yourself."_

"I hear you," Tim said. That was all he could say right now.

" _And I love you."_

"I love you."

 _Bye."_

Tim hung up.

"What did she do?" Tony asked.

"Nothing. I'm going to look for a hotel."

Tim started searching for a nice hotel for them to stay at for two nights. He did a few searches and hit on one that looked nice _and_ had a two-bed room available.

"Found one in Sausalito."

"Expensive?"

"Five hundred a night."

"Wow. Yeah. Expensive."

"Views of the Golden Gate Bridge. Easy access to the water, and not far from the ocean."

"Sounds great. Book it."

"Okay."

Tim reserved the room and then they watched for the end of Highway 50 in Sacramento. It was dark. They weren't going to have a good view, even with all the street lights, but that was okay.

"Take a picture. It's the end of the highway, Tim," Tony said.

Obediently, Tim did as they shifted from Highway 50 to a different road for the first time. I-80 would take them into San Francisco.

"Are you going to make it, Tony?" Tim asked. "It's still another hour and a half and it's almost nine, now."

"Yep. I'll make it. We're good."

For some reason, it felt strange to be driving on an interstate instead of the highway. Tim didn't know why, but part of him didn't want to leave that road. He wanted Highway 50 to go all the way to the coast. It was almost tragic that it didn't. Like an unfinished story that ended anyway.

"Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"Is something else wrong?"

"No," Tim said, quickly.

Too quickly.

Tony laughed.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Oh, come on. What is it?"

"It's stupid, Tony," Tim said. "And with everything else that's gone wrong, I don't need this, too."

"Just tell me. You know I won't leave you alone until you do. I can be more annoying than a mosquito because you can't just swat me."

"I didn't want the road to end," Tim said, almost to stave off what could be a long (and yes, annoying) Tony speech.

"What do you mean? It didn't. We're on I-80."

"Yeah. Not Highway 50. It ended, but we weren't there. We didn't get a real end. I wish it went all the way to coast. It just doesn't seem..." Tim laughed at himself. It was so ridiculous. "...it's not fair."

"Well, I guess we could register a complaint with the Department of Transportation, but I think they'd be unimpressed."

"Yeah, I know. I told you it was stupid."

"Surprising, but not stupid."

"No, it was stupid."

"No, it wasn't. I didn't think it was."

"Well, I did."

"Big surprise," Tony said.

Tim didn't respond to that. Instead, he looked out the window as the cars passed by. Lots of them, even at this time of night.

Finally, they reached San Francisco and Tim navigated to the hotel in Sausalito. As they pulled into the entrance to what looked more like a condo complex than a hotel, Tony looked around in amazement.

"So...five hundred a night, huh?"

"Yeah," Tim said.

"I can see why. I think this must be for snooty upper-class people."

"Like you?" Tim suggested, with a bit of a smile.

"I'm not snooty. I've never been snooty."

"Are you saying you don't want to stay here?"

"Are you kidding? No way! We're staying."

Tony parked the car and Tim went into Reception to get their room assignment. They checked in and Tony drove to their building. Then, it was one more step of getting to their room. It was about eleven. Tim was tired, but he knew that Tony must be absolutely exhausted after driving all day long.

Even so, when they stepped inside and saw what was, essentially, a studio apartment, they were both amazed.

"Wow. Fancy schmancy," Tony said, in awe. "Good pick, McGee. Hey, and cookies!"

Tony walked over to a table that had milk and cookies sitting on it.

"I thought we might want them. It was an add-on," Tim said.

Tony picked up one of the cookies and took a bite.

"Good choice. They're perfect chocolate chip cookies. Well, I'm going to eat these cookies, but then, I'm going to bed. I'll bet I sleep really well tonight."

Tim nodded, but he wondered if he would sleep well. He felt like talking about all this stuff had only made it more prominent in his mind. Would he really be able to let it go long enough to sleep?

Still, he could only try. He knew that bad things happened when he didn't sleep.

They both had their cookies. Tim agreed that they tasted very good. Then, they quickly got ready and went to bed. The lights were out. They were both lying quietly. Tim felt wide awake, not tired as he had been before the lights went out.

He lay there, staring up at the ceiling and found himself wishing for the way he had felt with Dearing. That, at least, had been misplaced.

Unlike this time.

"Go to sleep, Tim," came Tony's soft voice.

Tim didn't reply, hoping that Tony would assume he was already asleep.

Silence for a while.

"Tim, go to sleep. I can tell when you're not sleeping."

"You're not sleeping, either," Tim said.

"I would if you would."

Tim felt that was putting unfair pressure on him, but he rolled over toward the window and closed his eyes and tried not to see it all happen again.

" _Please, don't let..."_


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Tony woke up with a jolt after seeing Milan's face in his sleep again. He rolled over quietly and checked the time. It was actually nearly 5:30. That wasn't too bad. Maybe he could still get some more sleep, but at least he'd slept through most of the night. He debated what would be the best course of action. Roll over and see if he could sleep immediately or do something to get him completely awake and then hope he could get back to sleep afterwards?

Then, he heard something else. He looked toward Tim's bed and realized it was empty. He started to sit up when he noticed the shape of Tim sitting on a chair by the window. Tony lay where he was, deciding whether or not he should say something. Had Tim actually slept? Or had he fallen back into the no sleep at night thing?

"Tim, you okay?"

He heard a laugh, but it was a little teary. Tony sat up.

"Tim?"

"Yeah, Tony," Tim said, in a raspy voice. "Or at least, I'm no worse than I was."

"Then, what's up?"

"It's stupid."

"You keep saying that, but I'm sure it's not true."

"I just had a bad dream, that's all," Tim said after a second. "I was just sitting up until I let it go and could try to sleep some more. What about you? I know I wasn't making any noise."

"Just...Milan, again."

"Why can't you stop seeing him? You said it's just his face. Why?"

"Because..." Tony hesitated. He really didn't want to be talking about this, but he had claimed that he was willing to and Tim was actually asking about something, so it was probably a good idea to say something. "...I was really focused on him, nothing else. It wasn't quite an obsession, but I just got so used to thinking about nothing else. It was like I'd lost something important when he killed himself, even though I _hated_ seeing him. It was a relief to delete his picture off my computer, but now, I don't know what to look for."

"Something better?" Tim asked, softly.

"Yeah, and I thought it would be that easy, but it's not. It's getting better, just being away from it, but I can't forget his face yet."

"Yeah."

Then, Tim stood up and walked back to his bed. He lay down.

"I'm ready to try to sleep again," he said.

"Are you sure you slept?"

"Yeah. I slept. Not enough, but I slept...and I hope I can sleep some more."

"Me, too."

Tim apparently got down into his blankets. Tony lay back down as well and tried to quiet his mind and think about something else.

After a few minutes, he suddenly realized that Tim hadn't told Tony what his dream had been, what had managed to get him teary again. Had it just been the same problems he'd had or was it something different? He hadn't said anything about nightmares before.

But if Tim needed more sleep, now was not the time to push. Tony tried to relax and enjoy the fact that there was no driving the next day, at least, nothing substantial. They could just relax and enjoy San Francisco. He hadn't been here in years. He'd been left here a couple of times by his dad.

He fell into memories of wandering through Fisherman's Wharf and other places in San Francisco...and fell asleep.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim lay where he was, thinking about the dream he'd had. It wasn't often that dreams had the power to make him cry. Of course, given his state of mind right now, he supposed he shouldn't be surprised at blubbering about a dream, no matter how gut-wrenching.

He really didn't think he'd get back to sleep now, but he didn't want to keep Tony up. In fact, after a few minutes, he heard Tony's breathing even out. He was glad Tony was sleeping. He lay where he was for a while longer, but then, he got up again and walked back to the chair. Clouds had moved in during the night and were hanging low over the Golden Gate Bridge. He was hoping for a chance to zone out enough that maybe he'd be able to sleep, and, in this case, that was not going to happen while he was lying down in bed. He needed to be sitting up.

He sat there, staring out the window. It really was an amazing view, but right at this moment, Tim had found that he wanted to be home. He wasn't going to say anything to Tony who needed the time off and this would be a good day for him to recover from all the driving.

" _Where's my mom?"_

 _The question tore at his heart and Tim knelt down in front of the two children, trying not to let out how horrified and angry he was._

" _I want to see my mom! Where's my mom?"_

" _I'm sorry, Justin," Tim said gently. "I'm really sorry."_

" _She died. Didn't she."_

 _Tim looked at the older girl._

" _Yes, Arleen. She did."_

 _Arleen and Justin both started crying. Justin, only six years old, hugged Tim tightly and cried for his mother._

" _Your dad is going to be here soon," Tim said, letting Justin hug him._

 _Arleen, who was almost ten, looked absolutely devastated. Where Justin's tears were loud, hers were silent._

" _Why?" she asked._

 _Tim spared a hand to gently squeeze her arm._

" _I don't know," he said. "I wish I did."_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The sky was much lighter when Tony woke up next. He was glad to note that he felt a lot better. He stretched luxuriously before sitting up on the wonderfully-comfortable bed. Then, he grimaced.

Tim was asleep on a chair by the window, not in his bed. In fact, he looked like he was going to have a major crick in his neck when he woke up.

What time was it, anyway?

Tony looked at the clock and then blinked in surprise. It was almost 9:30 a.m. He'd slept a lot longer than he'd expected after his 5:30 waking. How had he not awakened sooner?

Then, he noticed that it was not a bright, sunny day. It was dark and gloomy. Figured. But then, that was one of the things San Francisco was known for. Fog. Maybe this would lift, maybe not. Either way, they were going to have a relaxing day and, hopefully, a good night as well.

For now, no matter how little sleep Tim had been able to get, he should probably wake up before he snapped his neck. He walked over to where Tim was sleeping, miraculously not snoring.

"Tim, that looks _really_ uncomfortable," Tony said and shook him gently.

One snort escaped Tim's open mouth as he stirred and then started to sit up, not really fully awake.

"Wha-?"

"Isn't your neck killing you?" Tony asked.

Tim winced a little as he moved his neck around.

"What?" he asked again, only he got the whole word out that time.

"Why are you sleeping in the chair?" Tony asked.

"I had a bad dream," Tim mumbled, still not quite awake.

"You said that at 5:30."

"It was true, then, too."

"What was in your dream?"

"Nothing. Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah. But what was in your dream, Tim? And when did you get so good at changing the subject?"

Tim was now fully awake and he looked at Tony with a raised eyebrow. It was almost a normal expression which was nice to see, even if it was slightly irritated.

"I've always been good at changing the subject. You just didn't notice before."

Tony thought back and realized that, yes, Tim really was good at changing the subject. That he had noticed this time was an aberration, not the norm.

"Okay. I'll give you that. But what did you dream? It must have really bothered you to have you sleeping in the chair and not in these great beds."

"Do you want to shower first?"

"No. I want you to tell me what you're trying _not_ to tell me."

"I don't have to tell you everything in my life, Tony," Tim said, with some heat. "I'm allowed to have some things be private!"

"Hey! Come on," Tony said. "I'm not asking so I can tease you for it or anything. I'm just worried."

Tim took a deep breath and visibly calmed.

"I dreamed that..." He stood up and turned fully toward the window. "...that I was dead, that I was lying in my coffin, and I could hear Tommy crying and asking for me, wanting to know where I was, when I'd be coming back. And it...bothered me, okay? It...really bothered me, and I didn't want to be lying in bed, feeling like I was in a coffin." He took a breath. "That's all."

"That doesn't sound like _all_ , Tim. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize. It's not your fault that I'm a nutcase."

"You're not a nutcase. That would freak me out and it's not even my kid." Tony hesitated. "Do you want to head back today?"

Tim shook his head. "No. I want a day where we're not driving. Delilah wanted me to call home this morning. She's not working and they'll be home."

"Then, I'll shower first, and you can do that. It's not going to be morning in D.C."

"Yeah, I know."

Tim took another breath and walked over to the table where he'd set his phone before. Tony watched as he sat down on the bed and stared at it. Then, he decided to get in the bathroom quickly to give Tim a little bit of privacy. It was telling that he had resisted telling a dream and complained about having to talk about everything. Situations like this led to probing, but Tim was right. He did have the right to some privacy. He grabbed some clothes and hurried into the bathroom, closing the door and turning on the fan.

The bathroom was as luxurious as the rest of the room was. Very nicely appointed.

Worried or not, Tony decided he would take his time and enjoy this.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim sat, staring at his phone until he heard the fan go on in the bathroom. He wasn't sure he wanted to call at all, but he definitely didn't want an audience. He wasn't sure whether or not he'd be able to maintain his composure when he talked to Tommy, not after his dream. Still, he had promised to call and he would.

One more sigh and he dialed.

Delilah answered on the first ring.

" _Tim, you called!"_

"I said I would."

Tim heard something faint in the background and Delilah laughed.

" _Yes, Tommy. It's Daddy. I told him you would be calling today and he's been asking for you every five minutes."_

His dream pricked at his mind again and Tim felt himself choking up.

"I'm sure," he said.

" _Tim, what's wrong? Are you okay?"_

"I..." Tim stopped, not wanting to share that painful dream.

" _Tim, you're starting to scare me. What is it?"_

"I had a dream last night," he said, almost whispering.

" _What was it?"_

"I was dead and Tommy was asking for me to come back." He stopped. "...like... Admiral Jenkins' children...after their mother was killed."

" _Tim..."_

"I want to hear him, Delilah," Tim said, trying to stop the tears again. "Really. I do."

" _Okay. I'm going to put it on speaker phone. Tommy, come over and talk to your daddy."_

"Tommy, are you there?" Tim asked, still feeling teary.

" _Daddy! Daddy, come home!"_

That didn't help Tim stop crying.

" _Tell Daddy what you did this morning, Tommy."_

" _Daddy, went potty! By myself!"_

Tim laughed a little.

"That's great, Tommy," he said, swallowing his tears as much as he could.

" _Daddy, come home! Show you!"_

Again, that plea just tore at his heart like nothing else could.

"In a f-few days...Tommy," Tim said. "I'll be home, soon."

" _Now, Daddy! Love you!"_

"I can't be h-home y-yet, Tommy," Tim said, stammering. "But I will."

" _Tim, is everything okay?"_ Delilah asked. He knew she was worried about how he sounded, but she didn't want to make Tommy afraid.

"Y-Yeah. We're going to take today to recover from the driving and then, we'll head back tomorrow, but we'll be going on I-80 so it'll be faster," Tim said, calming a little. "Nothing to stop for."

" _Good. Tim, I've really missed you, and I want you to come home, too...but I'll be more patient than Tommy is. Right, Tommy?"_

" _Daddy! Daddy! Love you tons!"_

"I love you, too, Tommy," Tim said. "I've missed you. Both of you."

" _Tommy, go play, okay?"_

" _Bye, Daddy!"_

"Bye, Tommy."

" _Tim..."_

"I'm sorry, Delilah. I've made things miserable for you, I know."

" _No, Tim. Not miserable. I've just been worried."_

"Which made you miserable."

" _A little. But you sound better, Tim. I don't know what it is, but it's not the same as it was yesterday."_

"I can't say that I feel any better."

" _That's okay. I don't expect things to be good right away, but I think they can be. ...if you'll let them be."_

"I'll have to let you feel that way. I can't."

" _Okay. I will. You'll be back by the end of the week?"_

"Yeah. I think so."

" _Good. I love you, Tim. I really do. It's going to take more than this to get rid of me. We made a promise to each other. Better or worse, Tim. I meant that."_

"I love you, too," Tim said. "Bye."

" _Tommy, come and say bye to your dad!"_

Tim heard thumping feet and then...

" _Bye, Daddy! Come home! Love you!"_

"I love you, too, Tommy. I want a hug when I come home. Okay?"

" _Hugs!"_

" _Bye, Tim. Keep calling, okay?"_

"I will."

" _Bye."_

Tim hung up and lay back on the bed. He did wish he was already at home, but he also didn't want to be home at all. He knew it was a contradiction, but he didn't care that it was. He was glad to have talked to Tommy and heard him happy instead of crying like he had been in his dream.

He lay there until he heard the fan go off and Tony came out of the bathroom.

"That is one of the most amazing showers I've ever had, Tim. It's your turn. Or you could have a bath. That looks good, too."

"Okay."

Tim sat up and grabbed some clothes. Then, he walked into the bathroom.

"Don't take all day," Tony called behind him. "We haven't even eaten breakfast yet!"

"Okay."

Tim went into the bathroom and even he could admit that this was pretty amazing. He hadn't had a bath in a long time. He was usually showering in a hurry, not lingering in his morning ablutions.

For some reason, the idea of taking a bath was really appealing. He turned on the faucet and watched as the water started to fill up the tub.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony heard the water going and he smiled. Tim was taking a bath. That was kind of funny. He hadn't really been serious, but they weren't in any kind of hurry. They had all day.

Was it a good sign that Tim was doing something like take a bath? Probably not, but Tony would pretend it was.

For now, he would figure out where they'd go for breakfast or if they'd just stay in the hotel. The weather looked gray and gloomy, so maybe they wouldn't want to go outside at all. That would be all right, too.

Breakfast, first.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Tim sat in the tub for a while. It was very comfortable and he could almost set things aside. He lay back and let himself relax...but not so relaxed that he fell asleep. He stayed in the bath for a while, trying not to think about anything. Nothing good. Nothing bad. Just be blank for awhile without anything to be happy or sad about. He could just exist in a void.

Unfortunately, that couldn't last. In this case, it couldn't because Tim wasn't alone in the hotel room.

After an unknown span of time there was a knock on the door.

"Tim, did you drown?" Tony called.

It was just barely _not_ a joke. Tim sighed and sat up.

"No, I didn't."

"Well, it's way after ten now. We've missed breakfast and it's time for brunch."

"Don't you mean lunch?"

"Not if it's not after noon."

Tim found that he really didn't want to leave the bathroom. This solitude had been nice for a while.

"Are you saying it's time to get out of the bathroom?"

"Yes! I've found a bakery that serves breakfast stuff all day and the coffee is supposed to be good. It's not far away."

"Why not the restaurant here?" Tim asked as he reluctantly got out of the tub.

"Because we don't have time to get to it and have breakfast. They do have this brunch thing, but I looked at the menu and nothing was grabbing me. So get moving and we won't waste the entire day!"

Tim started drying himself off.

"I thought that was the point of today. No driving."

"Well, not a _lot_ , but some."

"Okay."

"The bakery is really close."

Tim started getting his clothes on. He got the feeling that Tony wouldn't stop pestering him until he was out of the bathroom. Actually, he had an even greater feeling that Tony was worried about him being alone in the bathroom. Perversely, he was tempted to take longer, but he resisted the temptation. He finished getting dressed and opened the door. He caught a glimpse of relief on Tony's face before he just smiled.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked.

"No," Tim said. "I don't have my shoes on."

"Well, get them on! Let's get going!" Tony said. "Get a move on, Probie!"

Tim rolled his eyes and got his shoes on.

"There. I'm ready now. Okay?"

"Good. Let's go!"

Tim grabbed his jacket and let Tony usher him out of the room. Then, Tony drove to a bakery. They bought some coffee and donuts, but Tony didn't want to stay in the bakery, so they drove around toward the Golden Gate Bridge.

"Do you want to go into the city?" Tony asked.

"No," Tim said. "Not really. I'd rather just see the ocean."

"Okay."

He bypassed the Golden Gate Bridge, but pulled over at an overlook.

"We have to see the bridge, Tim," Tony said. "Let's go."

Tim nodded and got out of the car. He walked with Tony to the bridge and stared at it while eating his donut and drinking his coffee. The clouds were so low that the top of the bridge was hidden. It gave everything an isolated and rather dreary feel.

"You know, it figures," Tony said. "We had perfect weather all the way across the country and we get to the ocean and it's foggy."

"The ocean is still there," Tim said. "Really, all the fog is doing is obscuring the ugly city."

"Ugly? San Francisco isn't ugly!"

"It's crowded, noisy, and nearly completely unaffordable for any regular person," Tim said, feeling a sudden bitterness.

"Unaffordable, I'll grant you," Tony said. "But crowded and noisy? How is that different from any other big city in the world?"

"It's not. Just teeming masses of people smashed together."

"Well, someone is feeling negative this morning...afternoon."

"I'd rather see the ocean," Tim said. Even he wasn't sure where the bitterness was really coming from.

"Sure. Okay."

Tim felt bad that he had dragged the mood down so much, but something was really eating at him as he stared at the Golden Gate Bridge. He turned away and walked back to the car. Tony followed him, but he was silent. They drove around toward the coast, finishing up their coffee and donuts. Then, Tony stopped at a place called Muir Beach. Because the weather was pretty miserable, the beach was almost empty, but they got out and started walking on a trail. It took them above the beach and along the coastline. Tim stopped and stared out at the ocean. There were no expansive views with the fog, but it didn't matter. This was better.

"Happy now?" Tony asked.

"No, but it's a better view." Then, Tim looked at Tony. "Why are you so afraid to have me in the bathroom?"

"What?"

"Every time I've been in there, you seem to feel the need to check on me. What are you thinking I'm going to do?" Then, Tim just decided to say it. "Kill myself?"

It was Tony's turn to look away.

"Yeah, Tim," he said after a few silent seconds. "That's exactly what I'm afraid of."

"Why?" And a thought struck him. "Do you think I'm like Milan?"

"You're far from a mass murderer, Tim," Tony said.

"Come on, Tony. You keep telling me that _I_ need to talk about it, but you're acting like I'm liable to drop the blow dryer in the tub or something while I'm in the bathroom. Is it because of Milan? ...or Kate?"

"Kate? What does this have to do with Kate?" Tony demanded, sounding a little angry himself.

"She died right in front of you," Tim said. There was a part of him that was really trying to get Tony to have the same kind of pain he had felt, but he was also wanting to understand. He didn't know why he was pushing like this, but he was, and he wasn't going to stop, not this time. His own anger was still simmering.

"So?"

"So, you can't save her. It was right there in front of you. Milan was right there in front of you. And now, you think that it'll be me next?"

"Don't even start to make Kate and Milan the same," Tony said.

"Don't pretend that's what I'm doing," Tim shot back. "You said it yourself. There was no chance to save her. Milan is one that you didn't even get to know what was driving him. Death when it wasn't necessary. Are you starting to think that I'm the same way? That you'll be left staring at another death you couldn't prevent?"

"I told you. It's just time I need."

"Yeah. That's what I said and you thought it was a load of bunk. Well, I'm calling you on that, too," Tim said. "Why would you think I'd kill myself?"

"I don't know, Tim!" Tony burst out, suddenly. "I'm not this all-knowing guy! I'm guessing what will help and what will get through to you, but I don't know!"

"And you don't like not knowing," Tim said.

"Neither do you, Mr. MIT."

Tim rolled his eyes.

"Oh, please, Tony. I watched an innocent woman get her brains blown out right in front of me, okay? That's what I saw. What did _you_ see?" Tim was almost shouting. Not quite, but almost.

"Why do you care? Everything you've said so far has been about you, and I get why, but why do you suddenly care about what I saw?"

"Because it has you treating me like a suicide waiting to happen!"

"Because that's what you're acting like, Tim," Tony said. "I've seen it in your eyes. Sometimes, they're almost dead. Just like..." He stopped.

"Like Milan?"

"Yeah."

Then, another thought hit Tim, and he said it before he really had time to consider the wisdom of it.

"Or like Ari?"

"Why do you keep going back to Kate?" Tony asked.

"You said it wasn't like what happened to me, but is it really that different?"

It started misting. Not really rain, but it was definitely moisture coming down from the sky. Tim refused to start back to the car. He stayed where he was.

"Why are you pushing this?"

"Because...I need to know that I'm not alone in this, Tony! If nothing you've experienced is anything like what happened to me, then, I'm still alone, no matter how many people are around...no matter what road we're on. I'm selfish and I want someone on the same road as me. And I want you to admit that not everything is easy for you, Tony! Even when you admit that you have trouble, you act like it's no big thing! It is a big thing! You watched someone die! Sure, he was a criminal, but you still watched it. Just like you saw Kate die. I never did. I didn't see her until she was in Autopsy."

Tony was silent and he was looking out at the ocean.

"Please, Tony. Say something. You never stop talking except when something is really bugging you."

Another long silence.

"I'm supposed to be the happy guy," Tony said.

"You are? Since when?"

Tony laughed a little.

"Ha ha." He took a breath. "I feel like spending too much time talking about Milan is giving him more power than I should. He's a murderer and the reason he did it shouldn't matter. That's why I deleted his picture off my computer right after we got back." Then, Tony sighed. "I just can't seem to delete him from my mind as easily." He finally looked at Tim again. "But I really do think that this is something that will fade with time. It just would have been easier if I could have talked to the guy before he killed himself. Got some kind of sense of him. We never knew why he started shooting. And yeah, it's hard, but it'll get easier."

"And Kate?"

Tony's eyes flicked away again, back to the ocean. For a long time, he said nothing. This time, Tim waited. He didn't want to. He wanted to keep pushing, but he didn't. He stood there staring at Tony while Tony stared at the ocean.

"She died mid-sentence," Tony said, finally. "But she wasn't afraid. None of us were. We thought it was over. We were laughing, joking. I can still hear what she was saying."

"What?" Tim asked.

"'I thought I'd die before...'" Tony said. "That's all she got out. Then, she was dead. When you finally went down to Autopsy, it was the first time, I really let myself look at her, too. At least, since the rooftop. The difference, Tim, is that I didn't even have time to _think_ she needed saving. It ended so fast that she was dead before I even had a chance to stop laughing."

It was now more of a drizzle than a mist, but neither of them made a move to go back to the car.

"You don't forget something like that, Tim. It never really goes away. ...but really, I never felt _guilty_ , like I'd done something wrong. I knew I hadn't. It was just the... it came out of nowhere. It wasn't in the middle of a firefight when you're _ready_ to possibly lose someone. It was when we'd won. We'd _won_ , Tim. It was over! Everyone was safe! ...and then, Kate was dead. Just like that. Her blood was on my face and she was lying on the roof. Dead. And not because of her but because of Gibbs."

Tim felt his instant anger and tried not to express it. He was really _trying_ to let Tony talk, to get the attention off himself for once. If he showed his continued fury at Gibbs, Tony would turn to that instead. He had to swallow and clench his hands into fists. Then, he took a deep breath.

Suddenly, Tony turned away from the ocean and looked at Tim.

"I don't want to see _anyone_ die, Tim," he said. "The way you've been acting has scared me, and not just me. It's scared Delilah, too. Why do you think she called me? She was desperate for something that would work. If she had thought she could get through to you, she would have without me. You were withdrawing from your whole life! And I was just coming off of seeing a guy I didn't care about kill himself. Like I said before, you made me a part of your family. The last thing I want is to lose that. It is about Milan, but it's more about you. Okay?"

"I don't..." Tim stopped because he would be lying. He felt like a heel for wanting things to be about him, but he still wanted them to be about him because that might mean that things got fixed somehow. Fixed. Like something was broken and could be patched back together. Irritated at himself, he turned and started walking away.

"Hey, where are you going?"

"I'm sorry, Tony," Tim said, still walking.

"What for? Slow down!"

Tim didn't. He suddenly felt like he needed to start running, but he didn't feel like the trail was smooth enough for that. He just kept walking, faster and faster.

"Tim, stop! What's going on?"

The trail dropped sharply down toward a small beach. Tim slipped and slid down to the beach and then stopped where the waves started running up the sand. He stood there, where he couldn't go any further and struggled to quash down his sudden emotional outburst...that he hadn't really expressed, but was trying not to _want_ to let out. It almost felt like it was choking him.

"Tim, what just happened? What are you sorry for?"

Tim plopped down on the sand and dropped his head into his hands. So much for controlling himself and letting something be about Tony. It was back on him again and he'd been so determined not to let that happen this time.

He heard Tony making his way down the trail to the beach.

"I'm sorry, Tony," he said again.

"For what? What in the world do you think you've done?"

"I was going to let it be about you. I really was, but I can't. It's just always there and... and I'm sorry."

Tony actually laughed a little, but it wasn't the kind of laugh showing real humor. It was a surprised laugh where he just didn't know what else to do.

"I didn't ask you to make it about me, Tim."

"I know. But it _should_ be about you, but I keep pulling it back to me again."

"Hey! Tim, calm down. It's not like you never talk about me. Heck, you were trying to find me a job last time."

"But it was still about me," Tim said. "Me and my stupid over-reacting brain."

"Okay, Tim. I realize that you're having trouble still, but this has got to stop. You are not allowed to berate yourself because you're having a hard time thinking outside your own head."

With annoyance, Tim realized that he wanted to cry again. He shoved that feeling down.

"Man, I hate myself," he whispered.

"Whoa. Wait a second, Tim. That's not even cool," Tony said.

Tim felt Tony kneel down on the sand beside him. He started pulling at Tim's shoulder, trying to get him to sit up. Tim didn't want to. He was ashamed of how he was acting. He didn't want to look Tony in the eye.

"Okay, Tim, you can't keep hiding your face. Sit up before you force me to knock you backward."

Tim took a breath and sat up. That wasn't enough for Tony, though. He forced Tim to look at him, and Tim could see that there was no joking this time. Not even a little bit.

"You are not allowed to hate yourself, Tim. I get it. I really do, but I don't care if you think you're doing the wrong thing right now. I don't care if you wish you could go back and fix things. I don't care if you're self-centered and want everything to be about you. I don't care about any of that. You are my friend, and you said I was family. You are _not_ allowed to hate yourself. You couldn't have saved her. No one could have saved her. Not once you had to run into that house. You saw something no one should have to see."

"You saw the same thing," Tim said.

"Stop it. I'm not done. It got to you, Tim. Everyone has something like that. It's knocked you down and I am not going to let you start digging a deeper hole. You seemed better before. What's changed?"

"I don't know," Tim whispered. "I really don't. ...but I was going to stop this being all about me because I could see that you needed help, too. I just can't do it, Tony. I really do want to help you, but..."

"You already did," Tony said.

"No, I didn't," Tim said, shaking his head. "I didn't do anything but make you uncomfortable."

Tony smiled a little. "Yeah, and I needed that. Did you know that you're the first person to ask me about Kate, about how _I_ felt about what happened? Did you know that?"

"No."

"I'm not going to pretend that everything is all hunky-dory now, but just saying it out loud helped a little. Knowing that someone else knows. ...and you did that, Tim."

"More than a decade later."

"Hey, no. You're not going to make it mean nothing. It does. It means something to me and that's what matters. You've got to get help working through this, Tim. I don't even care exactly what it is, but when it has you going through this kind of... emotional roller coaster, you need help with it."

Tim was still looking Tony in the eye because Tony wasn't letting him look anywhere else.

"If you need an extra reason to work on it, how about this? I don't want to lose the family you gave me."

Once again, the tightness in his throat threatened tears. Tim tried to hold them back because he hated showing them to anyone, but with Tony right there, saying those things, he just couldn't. He closed his eyes tightly and felt his lip start to tremble, an annoying tic that he'd tried to get rid of over and over again. It was hard to be a tough guy with a quivering lip.

"I don't want to lose my family, either," Tim whispered. "...but..."

"No. No buts here. What happened in that house does not somehow negate your worthiness to be happy and have your family."

"I _was_ feeling a little better this morning, but now... I don't know..."

"Okay. Answer me one question, Tim, and be honest. No matter what the answer is, I want to know."

"Okay."

"Do I have to worry about you hurting yourself?"

Tim opened his eyes and Tony was still right there, staring at him.

"That's all I'm asking right now because that's what scares me most. We can keep helping you if you slip, but if you're dead, that's it. Can't fix that, Tim, and I don't want to deal with it, quite frankly. I've already seen one suicide in the last little while. That's all I can handle. So tell me, is this something I have to worry about?"

Tim gave it some real thought. He could have just answered, but Tony's point-blank question made him think about it. It was one thing to accuse Tony of acting like Tim was suicidal. It was another to think about whether or not he actually _was_.

 _Do I want to die?_

To his surprise, the answer was no. Right at this moment, he hated how he was acting. He hated the way he felt. He hated himself, but that wasn't leading him to death. It really wasn't leading him anywhere.

"No," he said, softly. "You don't have to worry about that."

"Okay. And if that changes between now and when we get back, you'll tell me. Right?"

"Yes."

"Then, I'll trust you, Tim."

Tony let him go and Tim turned back to the ocean. It was really close here, the waves came up onto the sand, just shy of swamping them both.

"I'm sorry," Tim said again.

"Don't be. Maybe we have more in common than I thought. You just don't drink to get away from things."

"You don't, either."

"Not anymore, but I did. More than once."

"After Kate?"

"Yeah. Nothing more depressing than drinking alone. But after getting rid of Ari, she was still dead."

Tim didn't bother to ask why Tony had been alone. At the time, they had only barely tolerated each other.

"Yeah. That's how it felt for me. I got him, but it didn't matter," Tim said.

"Yeah. Then, all you can do is realize that you don't really feel like you did a whole lot," Tony said.

"Like the important stuff was happening around you and you had no real power to change things," Tim said.

"And then, you wonder if it would have made any difference," Tony said.

They were talking, but not really to each other, but they still heard each other.

And then, a wave came in, moving up the sand and not stopping. They were both wet already from the drizzle, but now, they were soaked. They both jumped to their feet as the wave receded.

"I think that's a sign that we're living too much in the past," Tony said. "Nothing brings you back to the present like a good soaking in freezing cold salt water."

Tim nodded.

"Let's go."

"Okay."

They clambered back up to the trail, and then, Tony grabbed Tim's arm.

"No hating yourself, Tim. Got it?"

Tim smiled. "I can't promise that."

Tony smiled, too. "I know."

Then, they walked back to the car. Tim felt tired again, but it was a better tired than he'd felt before. He couldn't explain it if asked, but it was different.

With the weather being the way it was, they decided just to head back to the hotel.

Perhaps there'd be more to say before the day was over, but they both decided to take a nap.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Tim was sleeping...or at least, he appeared to be sleeping. Tony wasn't. He was thinking about how bizarre the last hour or two had been. Tim had seemed better, but then, suddenly it was like everything had exploded in his face without even knowing that there was a lit fuse to worry about.

Tim had been pushing Tony to talk about Milan, and suddenly started talking about Kate. And then, he was saying that he hated himself.

Tony had no idea how to take it all. Still less did he know how to take Tim's attempt to put the focus on something other than himself while still showing all the signs of falling apart.

Tony sat up and looked over at Tim. He did seem to be genuinely asleep and, looking at him now, he seemed completely normal. There was no sign of his stress or his grief or even his anger. The anger had been more prominent today, too. Again, Tony wasn't sure why. He'd only mentioned Gibbs' name once.

Finally, Tony decided that he needed some advice, and there was only one person he'd trust right now.

Quietly, he got out of bed and locked himself in the bathroom. Then, he dialed.

" _Dr. Mallard speaking."_

"Hey, Ducky. It's Tony."

" _Anthony! How nice to hear from you. I have to admit that I've been rather cut off from everyone for the last few weeks. I've been traveling. You actually caught me at just the right moment. What is it?"_

"You sound like you're having a good time, Duck. I'm sorry that this will probably ruin it."

" _Oh, dear. That does sound serious. What can I do for you?"_

"Have you heard about what went down between Tim and Gibbs a few weeks ago?"

" _Not a word. Dr. Palmer did mention that there was a case going on, but no details. He said it was being kept quiet and no one was supposed to talk about it."_

"Yeah. Well, it didn't go so well."

" _What happened?"_

"A woman and two kids were kidnapped. I guess it was for revenge on an admiral. Tim was the lead on the case and Gibbs' team was working with him. Gibbs countermanded one of Tim's orders and sent everyone in to confront the kidnappers."

" _This doesn't sound like it's headed anywhere good."_

"It's not. Tim ended up facing off with one of them. He had the woman with a gun to her head. Tim tried to talk him down, but he shot her. Right while Tim was watching."

" _That's terrible."_

"It messed Tim up pretty good, and he was really mad at Gibbs. He told me that he punched Gibbs in the face. He can't even say Gibbs' name without getting upset."

" _It does sound like it was an all-around awful situation. Where do I come in?"_

"Well, Tim was _really_ messed up. So we went on a road trip."

Ducky chuckled. _"That does seem to be your go-to."_

"It's always worked in the past."

" _True enough. Where are you now?"_

"San Francisco. We drove Highway 50 all the way across. We're headed back tomorrow."

" _A very long journey. Worthwhile?"_

"I don't know, actually."

" _Ah, and_ this _is where I come in."_

"Yeah. I need your help."

" _If I can give it."_

"I finally got Tim to talk about what happened. He told me about being scared of breaking down like he did with Dearing. He had seemed to be coming out of it a little bit. Not that he was _better_ , but he was actually talking and thinking about things other than seeing that woman get killed. But then, something really weird happened today."

" _What?"_

"We were out at the beach and he suddenly started trying to get me to talk about some stuff I've been dealing with. I had a pretty hard case myself and that's why I could get the time off."

" _I'm sorry for that timing. It's hard to help one person when you yourself are struggling."_

"Yeah, but mine will fade with time. It's not the same thing. It's just that he was pushing me to talk about my case and then, he was talking about Kate and accusing me of thinking he was suicidal."

" _Is he?"_ Ducky asked, in concern.

"He says he isn't. I believe him. For now."

" _Something to keep an eye on, definitely."_

"Well, Delilah worried about that, too, and so that made me worry. But then, he started talking about how he was trying not to make everything about him but that he was failing. He started almost running away from me, Ducky. And then, he said that he hated himself. I don't know where all that came from! It was like the first thing he thought of, once he got away from one thing, was everything he'd ever done wrong. I just don't...know what to do or how worried I should be."

Ducky was silent for about a minute. Tony let him think. This was a big thing he was laying at Ducky's feet and if he needed to mull it over, Tony would let him.

" _Anthony, what you say does trouble me, but I don't think you need to be as afraid as I think you are. If Timothy has been as upset as you say, then, one of his ways of trying to deal with it seems to be to replace it with something else. Anything else. If you have your own struggles, that's a convenient replacement. Timothy cares about you, and someone else's trials make a convenient target for an overtaxed mind. However, something as extreme as seeing an innocent killed in such a heinous manner cannot simply be dismissed. The struggles Timothy is having cannot be ignored or replaced, but what he sees is not that he's simply failing to ignore what happened to him. What he sees is that he's selfish for thinking about himself and not about you and your problems. What you're experiencing and seeing in him is Timothy still trying to deal with what happened but in an unorganized way. Subconsciously, he's flitting from one thing to another in an attempt to escape, but nothing is working as he wants it to."_

"What do I do about it?"

" _Carry on as you are. Has he been seeing a psychiatrist?"_

"He was, but he stopped."

" _Get him to agree to start again. That is something he needs. His past problems will have an impact on his present difficulties and he needs that help and guidance."_

"Why do you think he was asking me about Kate? I mean, he said something about wanting someone on the same road as he was, but..."

" _You saw an innocent woman die, Anthony. For Timothy, that is a link, something he can hold on to. You recovered from that experience. Obviously, I don't know for certain what is going through his mind, but for Timothy, it could be an affirmation that he, too, can recover."_

"But it wasn't the same thing, Ducky!" Tony protested. "I told him that it wasn't the same thing."

" _It affected you, did it not?"_

"Well, yeah, of course."

" _For a long time? Even up to this present time?"_

"I guess a little, yeah."

" _Then, should the subject come up again, I would suggest that you embrace Timothy's attempt to find common ground if the subject isn't too painful for you to discuss. If it is, do not feel that you must cause yourself pain to help Timothy. Martyrdom is not required."_

Tony laughed a little. "I wasn't planning on being a martyr."

" _Not in the physical sense, I'm sure."_

Finally, Tony asked the question that had been rolling around in his mind for days.

"Ducky...do you think he'll fall apart like he did before? That he'll need to go back...to the hospital?"

" _Not having spoken to him myself, I couldn't say for certain, but I don't think he will. I think this is likely something that should pass, so long as he gets the help he needs."_

"I've been telling him that he needs help."

" _Good. He may listen to you. One other suggestion that you may choose to discount if you disagree."_

"What?"

" _See if you can get him to speak about Jethro. Speaking_ to _Jethro would probably be beneficial for both of them, given what you've told me, but if he's so angry that he can't even talk about him, then, that is something that needs to be overcome."_

"I was thinking of getting them to talk."

" _Only attempt it if Timothy can speak_ about _him, first."_

"Right."

" _And one more thing, Anthony. I don't think you've realized what an amazing, albeit unenviable, position you're in."_

"I'm sure I haven't," Tony said, having no idea where Ducky was going.

" _You are aware of how reluctant Timothy is to share his feelings with others, how fearful he is of being judged, how cautious he is about letting people in."_

"Yeah. That's part of the problem."

" _No doubt, but he_ is _sharing with you. He's more than a little clumsy, in part because he does it so rarely, but he's telling you how he feels. Even if that feeling is to express his own dislike of himself. He's telling you, Anthony. Timothy has let you in. No matter what else, remember that. You have been granted a position of great trust by someone who is cautious about trusting. You can use that trust to get farther than anyone else would get."_

"No pressure," Tony muttered.

Ducky chuckled a little. _"But the one thing you must never forget, Anthony, is your own needs. When the plane is crashing, you are instructed to put on your own mask before helping others. You can't help anyone if you're suffocating, too."_

"I hear you."

" _Good because I mean it. I commend you for your attempts to help your friend, but if you are also struggling, you need to take some time, and if Timothy is truly trying to give you that, no matter how imperfectly, you should accept the attempt."_

"But it doesn't seem to be helping him, either!"

" _Helping others helps you. What you can do is help him navigate between his desire to help you and his desire to heal himself without turning it into another indication of what he's done wrong."_

"Again, no pressure," Tony said.

" _In reality, I think you've been doing what you can and it is a good thing. Just don't forget yourself in all this. Have you spoken to Jethro at all?"_

"Just once."

" _How was he?"_

"You know Gibbs. He doesn't talk much...but if I was to guess, he's pretty messed up by it, too. The admiral lost his wife."

" _Of course. Well, I may see if I can prevail upon him to open up a little."_

"I think I'll have an easier time with Tim."

" _That may be the case, but perhaps I can grease the skids a bit, as they say, and get him open to speaking to Timothy as well."_

"Good luck."

" _And to you."_

"Any last suggestions?"

" _Just understand that Timothy is struggling to figure out how he should react now that he feels like he can. If this attitude continues, then, yes, it is a major problem, but short-term, it is to be expected to some degree. And take care of yourself, Anthony. If you need to talk to someone, I am always free."_

"Thanks, Ducky. I really appreciate it."

" _Thank you for calling when you needed help."_

"You're welcome?" Tony suggested.

Ducky chuckled. _"Good-bye, Anthony."_

"Bye, Ducky."

Tony hung up and let out a sigh. He definitely felt better, just knowing that someone else was aware of what was going on and that he didn't feel like he had to hide it.

...and then, Tony stopped and thought about what he had just thought.

Someone knew and he didn't have to hide.

Wasn't that what he had tried to get Tim to understand? That he wasn't alone in it and there was nothing he had to hide? That had always been Tim's problem, even with simpler things. Tim withdrew when he was upset. He tried to be alone, whether he wanted to be alone or not.

Tony walked out of the bathroom and sat down on his bed, facing Tim. Maybe this time they could talk and really have a genuine conversation. No pushing, no shouting, no freaking out. Just talk, knowing that there was no need to hide anything.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim opened his eyes, surprised that he had slept. He wasn't sure he really wanted to be awake and have to face what he knew had been some pretty stupid behavior. He didn't really know what had got into him earlier, but he knew that Tony would want to talk about it.

He didn't want to talk about it or bring it up or deal with it. He just wanted to forget those feelings had come out and move on.

Still, he couldn't really sleep until tomorrow. For one thing, he'd get hungry before then. Might as well sit up and face it.

He rolled over and saw Tony staring at him. He sat up.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," Tony said in return.

Awkward silence.

"Are you ready to talk now?" Tony asked. "Really talk?"

"What do you think we've been doing up to now?"

"Reacting," Tony said, seriously. "And I think we needed to do that, but now... Tim, we've got to talk."

"Both of us? Or just me?"

Tony looked uncomfortable, but he answered quickly.

"Both of us."

"What if I don't want to?"

"Do it anyway."

Tim smiled a little bit. "Okay."

Tony finally smiled. "Then, we can eat dinner afterward and have all that time to unwind."

"I guess I can handle that."

"Good. You start."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

"I don't know what to say," Tim said. "I've said it all already."

"Not all," Tony said.

"What am I missing?"

"Gibbs," Tony said.

Instantly, Tim felt that visceral anger.

"I don't want to talk about Gibbs," he said.

"I know, but I think that you really need to. You can't hold on to that kind of anger, Tim. It's definitely not healthy."

"I think it's very healthy to hate Gibbs. Better than thinking he's God's gift to NCIS," Tim said, darkly.

"Those aren't your only two options, you know."

"And what else do you suggest?" Tim asked.

"Everyone knows that Gibbs isn't perfect. He makes mistakes just like anyone else. He probably feels terrible about it, too," Tony said.

"I don't care!" Tim burst out, angry that Tony would even _try_ to show sympathy to Gibbs. "It's his fault! He _should_! His decision is the one that got her killed! I hope he _does_ feel terrible. I hope it's eating at him the way it is me!"

"Why?"

"Because if I have to go through this, then, he should, too. He made the decision, but _he_ didn't have to see what came of it," Tim said, furiously. "I would rather have been the one getting punched than have to see that. I'd rather have Gibbs beat me to a bloody pulp than have to see her killed. So I don't care one bit if he's having a hard time. I hope he is. I hope he rots."

Tim looked at Tony to see what he made of that declaration. Tony's expression wasn't shocked or upset like Tim had expected. It was almost...disappointed and that made Tim angry again.

"What's that look for? I'm not allowed to be mad about this?"

"You are. I probably would be, too."

"Then, why are you looking at me like that?"

"What do you think I'm doing?" Tony asked, looking mostly curious.

"You're disappointed in me, like I'm supposed to somehow be immune to feeling things."

"Oh, come on," Tony said. "I've never even acted like you don't get to have emotions. I've certainly never said that."

"Then, what is it?"

"It's what I said before, Tim. You wouldn't say anything before. You just started talking about Dearing. Another great job of changing the subject when I wasn't paying attention, by the way. Are you afraid that this is your fault?"

"It's not!"

Tony actually smiled. "I didn't say it was. Is that what _you're_ thinking? Are you thinking that Gibbs was right?"

Tim hated hearing Tony even say the words as a question.

"That's what you think? That Gibbs was right and I was wrong?" he demanded.

"Tim, stop putting words in my mouth. You know exactly what I said and it wasn't that. Stop acting like you don't understand me. Are you afraid that you're the one who made the mistake?"

Tim stood up and turned away. He walked to the window and stared out at the Golden Gate Bridge.

"Come on, Tim. You forget that I know you. I know what you're like, and I know the things that you do when it goes bad. I already know what happened. There's no reason to hide anything from me. I'm not going to do anything with it besides try to help you out."

Tim didn't know why it was so hard to answer Tony's question, but he didn't want to answer it. He _really_ didn't want to answer that particular question.

"Okay, Tim. If you won't answer that question, then, answer a different one."

Tim said nothing.

"Why don't you want to answer that question?"

"I don't know," Tim said, softly.

"Then, think about it. Why is it so hard to answer? It just takes one word. Yes or no."

Tim thought about it, and the answer came to him, but he didn't want to say that either...because it would just lead back to the original question. He was silent for a long time, staring out the window rather than looking at Tony.

"Why, Tim?"

"Because I'm afraid that you'll agree with me."

"What?"

Tim turned around.

"Yes! Okay? I'm terrified that it's _my_ fault and I'm afraid to hear that anyone thinks the same way as I do! That's why!"

Tony's expression seemed to be more resigned than anything.

"Tim, come and sit down, okay?"

Tim reluctantly sat back down on the bed, facing Tony.

"Gibbs told me that he was suspended. Vance agrees that he was wrong."

Tim shook his head. "No. Vance agrees that Gibbs violated the chain of command. He doesn't necessarily think I was right...because, Tony...there's no way to know."

"That's right. There's not."

"So maybe Vance thinks I was wrong. Maybe _you_ think I was wrong. But more than any of that, maybe I _was_ wrong! It has to be one or the other of us! Gibbs wanted to go in right away. I wanted to wait!"

"Okay. Tim, set all that aside for second. Tell me _why_ you wanted to wait. And before you say anything, remember that I only know what you tell me. I haven't talked to Gibbs about this. I just want to know what _you_ were thinking. So tell me."

Tim didn't want to. He didn't want to open up himself to criticism. He didn't want to hear Tony say that he was to blame, that he'd made the wrong decision.

"Tell me, Tim."

Tim took a breath. "Okay." He stared at the floor. "Sarah had been profiling the kidnappers. The ringleader was a washout. Admiral Jenkins had made the final decision to discharge him from the military. She came to the conclusion that their main goal was to hurt Admiral Jenkins, that we had a limited amount of time to track them down, but that given the opportunity, they would kill rather than have Allison Jenkins and her kids saved. They had asked for a ransom, but Sarah said that the money didn't matter to them. The only thing they wanted was revenge. Their lives didn't matter to them. If we moved in too fast, before we were absolutely ready to take them down, Admiral Jenkins' family would be killed just so that they would be able to hurt him one last time. I had her check her analysis with some other profilers and they agreed with what she said."

Tim glanced up for just a second to see what Tony was thinking, but he couldn't tell. He looked back down at the floor. It was easier.

"When we found out where they were, Gibbs wanted to go in force, take them out without any waiting. I insisted that we needed to take the time to find out where each person was in the house before we moved in. I used Sarah's analysis to back me up and I said that we didn't want to risk them all being killed because we didn't know where they were. The house was large and abandoned. Out in the country. Gibbs and I argued about it. In the end, I said that it was my case and my decision."

"Your lead," Tony said.

"Yeah. He finally agreed, but he insisted that everyone else should be in place while my team scoped out the home. I agreed to that so that we wouldn't have any delay after we knew their positions, but I said that he couldn't move in until we were all ready. ...and that's exactly what _didn't_ happen. I already told you how it ended."

"Yeah. I won't ask you to say it again."

"Good."

"So what happened after you punched out Gibbs?"

"We had to do everything at the scene. Jimmy came and...did his thing. When I made the final report to Vance, I told him what happened and he agreed that it was my decision and Gibbs had put everyone at risk by moving in before we were ready."

"Did he say anything about you punching Gibbs?"

"I don't know," Tim said. "When I think back...it's a lot of noise."

And he was being honest. Tim really couldn't remember if Vance had reprimanded him for punching Gibbs. If he had, Tim didn't think he cared about it. Punching Gibbs had been the only positive moment of the last month of his life. If Vance wanted to say it was wrong, he could feel free.

"I guess that doesn't really matter, does it," Tony said.

"No. I don't care if he said I shouldn't have done it. I'd never take it back."

Silence fell again. Finally, Tim dared look up.

"So?" he asked.

"So what?" Tony asked, smiling a little.

"Do you think I was right? Do you think _Gibbs_ was right?"

Tim was afraid to ask but he was afraid _not_ to ask and always wonder.

Tony leaned forward.

"Do you really want to know?"

"Yes. No. Yes."

Tony laughed.

"Honestly, Tim, I don't know which of you were right, but it's possible that there _was_ no right way and she would have died no matter what. If these guys were that determined, there may have been no happy ending and maybe the only reason the kids made it was because they didn't really want to kill children. And at the end of the day, if it was your call, Gibbs should have gone along with it and not put you in that situation. I agree with that part. It sounds like you made your decision based on what you knew and Gibbs chose to ignore your decision. That was wrong. And he knows it."

"I doubt that's true. Gibbs _never_ thinks he's wrong. And if by some miracle he does, he would never let anyone else know. He has to be seen as always right."

"And you still do, too, don't you. You see him as always being right. Just a little bit. That's why you're so worried about it."

"Not anymore. Maybe before, but not now." Tim took a breath and looked down at the floor. "Can we stop talking about this now?"

"Sure."

"Okay. Your turn," Tim said, relieved to be done.

"What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to tell me what happened to you."

"I already did."

"No, you summarized. You've been pushing me for details. It's your turn," Tim said, knowing he sounded a little bitter. While he recognized that Tony was trying to help, he still wasn't particularly happy about having to relive it so much.

"I guess turn about is fair play."

Tim didn't look up because a part of him felt that he was being cruel in trying to force on Tony what he hadn't wanted forced on him.

"It was probably a lot like it was for you trying to find Admiral Jenkins' family, only you were trying to find good people. I was trying to find scum because we were afraid he'd do it again. If you don't know why it happened the first time, you just don't know what to expect after that. When we finally figured out where Milan was, we went over there. I don't know what he had been planning on doing. There was just a little dingy by the dock. He couldn't have got anywhere with it, but he was there."

Tony fell silent and Tim looked up. Tony wasn't looking at him. He was staring off into the distance.

"It was a beautiful day, you know. Before we started shouting, it was so quiet that I could hear birds chirping. The weirdest thing was that Milan never said a single word. He had his gun. We were all shouting at him to put it down, to put his hands over his head, but he just stood there, looking at us. I realized, just before he pulled the trigger, what he was going to do, and you know what the worst thing was?"

"What?" Tim whispered.

"He shot himself and then, his body fell into the lake. So we had to jump in and pull him out. This killer we'd been trying to find for weeks so that we could get him off the streets and in prison, he killed himself and then we had to make the effort to get his body. It would have been better just to leave him in there to rot. Feed some fish. At least then, something good would come out of his life. But no, we had to get his body with his destroyed face out of the water and make sure he was really dead. He was. It was a small favor since we would have had to try to save him if he'd been alive."

Tim felt a little ill at the idea of someone else with a face destroyed by a bullet. He didn't say anything, though.

"And after all that, we couldn't find any explanation for what he'd done. Nothing. No manifesto, no social media posts, nothing. It was like he'd just woke up one day and decided to go and kill people. Then, when he was done, he decided that he'd just kill himself, too. A random act of violence from a guy who had never made waves, not ever in his entire life. No one knew him well, but everyone knew him a little bit. It just doesn't make sense, but it he was seen on security cameras. His prints, his bullets. Everything said it was him. And so...it just doesn't feel over, even though it is. Even though it has been. It's just one of those things...and... even though Milan was a murderer, seeing someone kill himself... It's not something I want to repeat. Ever."

"Neither do I," Tim whispered, almost inaudibly. Then, he realized that, once again, he was pulling the topic back to himself.

"What?" Tony asked, tearing himself away from his own bitter memories.

"Nothing," Tim said.

"You said _something_ , but I didn't hear you. What?"

"Nothing, Tony!" Tim said, getting upset again, for no reason he could really explain.

"Hey, whoa. What's going on, Tim?"

And Tim saw that he wasn't helping. He was making it worse. Like everything else he did...

Tony got up and walked over to sit by Tim on the bed.

"What did you say, Tim? Unless it was something rude, I don't know why you'd think you had to hide it."

"I just said... neither do I. That's all I said."

"Okay. Why are you upset by that, then?" Tony asked.

"I'm making it all about me again! I need to stop doing it, but it keeps happening and..."

"Tim, shut up for a second."

Tim did, almost because he just hadn't expected Tony to say that.

"Okay, you listened to me. You asked me to talk and you listened. I needed that. And you did it. Just because I had things to say doesn't mean that your problems automatically go away. They don't. Just like mine don't automatically go away because I'm trying to help you! It's just a way to avoid the worst things. But you can't do it. Not really. If either of us could, I wouldn't be dreaming about Milan and you wouldn't be freaking out. But I'm still dreaming about Milan and you're still trying to deal with what you saw and what happened. And guess what, Tim, that's okay. For both of us. It sucks for both of us, but it's okay. Stop thinking that you're a bad person for not being able to ignore something you can't ignore!"

"I hate that it keeps coming back to me. You saw someone die, too!"

"I saw a murderer die. It's easier. It's not great, but it's easier."

"But it's still hard! And it's still all about me! And it shouldn't be!" Tim said, almost angry that Tony was being so understanding. He should be upset, too.

"Tim, I knew that the point of this road trip was to help you from the beginning. I didn't go into it thinking anything else."

Tim got to his feet and walked to the window again.

"Well, stop trying to help me!"

"Why?"

Tim turned around and almost shouted it. It had been there without words for weeks, but the words came out before he realized that he'd said them.

"Because I don't deserve it!"

The silence after his declaration was extremely heavy. Tony was still sitting on his bed. Tim was standing by the window, fists clenched and rigid at his sides, breathing heavily.

After about a minute of that heavy silence, Tony stood up and took a step forward. Unconsciously, Tim stepped back, away from letting Tony try to make him feel better again. Tony stopped and didn't try to get any closer.

"What don't you deserve, Tim?" Tony asked, quietly.

"To be helped."

"Why not?"

Tim was silent for a few seconds, but then, the words came out, again without him really knowing what they were going to be.

"Because I'm doing everything wrong."

"What are you doing wrong?"

"Everything, Tony."

"Be specific."

"I should have just let Gibbs be in charge. I should have insisted that Vance put him in the lead. I would have followed whatever orders he gave. I should have been able to do _something_ other than stand there and let Allison Jenkins be killed. I should have been able to let it go instead of doing all this that's made everyone so worried about me. I should have been able to see that you needed the help, too. I should be fine. But I'm not. I'm not fine. And I don't want to try to _be_ fine because I don't deserve to be. But I know it hurts everyone else, too. I just..." He shook his head and turned back to the window yet again. "There's no way out of this, Tony."

Before he knew it, Tony was there beside him and giving him a side-arm hug.

"Yeah, there is. There really is, Tim."

"What?"

"You stop thinking you don't deserve it. Everything else will be easier to deal with if you stop thinking that the way you're feeling is justice."

"Isn't it?"

"No! No, what you're feeling is just the fallout from something really awful. It's you trying to deal with it and not being able to on your own, but because you're so stubborn, you think you should be able to do it on your own and you keep on with something that doesn't work! You need help with this, Tim. And you _deserve_ help with this."

"Don't you deserve help, too?" Tim whispered.

"Yeah, I do," Tony said, easily. "The nice thing is that one person getting help doesn't mean no one else gets it. It just means that two people get help instead of one. Cause, guess what, Tim. There's more than one psychiatrist out there."

Tim laughed a little.

"I don't feel that way," he said.

"Well, there are. I'll bet you could get out a phone book and find tons of them."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know. Okay, I'll be serious. Do you trust me?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Then, if you can't feel like you deserve the help, trust me when I say you do. Because everyone can see that you do, except you. Tim, with the exception of punching out Gibbs, which I can admit was probably satisfying, you did everything right. You followed the evidence. You made a decision. You carried it through. And when it all went to pot you still did your job, from having to tell the family to reporting to Vance. You've even been checking on your team while on leave. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Except make everyone around me miserable."

"No. Stop. The only thing you're doing wrong right now is telling yourself that you have to suffer for it. You're not perfect. No one is. It's like you're drowning and instead of getting the life preserver, you're pushing it away because you didn't learn to swim on your own. If you're drowning, you're drowning. You can learn to swim after you get out, but put on the stupid life vest!"

Tim laughed again.

"Nice analogy."

"Thanks. I felt like it worked really well. And one other thing, Tim."

"What?"

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"For making me say all this stuff...so that I realize that it's okay for me to need the help, too. I still think I'm right that my problems will go away in time, but it'd probably be easier for me if I got some help. So I'll make you a deal. You start getting help when we get back, and so will I."

"But what if it really is my fault?" Tim asked. "I know we can't know it...just like with Benedict...but what if it is?"

"If it is, you made a mistake, just like with Benedict. And yeah, it's one that led to someone dying who shouldn't have, but you were doing your best. Both times. Sometimes, you just have to accept that you can't stop it." Tony took a breath. "Just like I couldn't save Kate and couldn't stop Milan. And I've accepted that with Kate. I haven't yet with Milan, but I will. And so will you."

Tim wiped at his eyes. The tears had never fallen, but it had been close. He stood there, Tony's arm around his shoulders and tried to control himself.

"So...now what?" he asked.

"Now, we look at the menu and see if we want to eat at the restaurant here or go somewhere else for dinner. Then, we go to bed. We get up tomorrow and start driving home, taking I-80 this time. How does that sound?"

Tim smiled and took a deep breath.

"It sounds good. I miss Tommy."

"Not Delilah?"

"Her, too. But I've been away from her for long periods of time before. I've never been away from Tommy for more than a day or two since he was born."

"Aw, Tim. You're such a dad." Tony gave Tim a little shake and then let him go. "Come on. Let's look at the menu and see if we're going to give this place even more of our money."

Tim took another deep breath and let it out.

"Considering how much this place costs, we should probably go to McDonalds."

Tony laughed. "Oh, we can both afford it. ...as long as both of us are affording it."

Then, they looked at the menu, decided to splurge on a meal at the restaurant and called to make sure there was room.

Tim didn't really want to go anywhere that people could see him and wonder, but he didn't say it. Logically, he knew that no one would be looking at him.

Tomorrow, they would be on their way home.

And Tim could almost say that he was happy about it.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Tim went into the bathroom to get ready for bed and Tony let out a sigh of relief. That had been the hardest conversation he'd ever had with Tim. It had been hard to talk about Milan in detail, but it had been even harder to realize that Tim was trying to punish himself for not being perfect. If he hadn't called Ducky to ask his advice, Tony was pretty sure that he wouldn't have been able to get Tim to admit to all that. He just would have been overwhelmed by Tim's sudden outburst.

For now, he felt like they had made some real progress because he felt like what Tim had said this time was the heart of it all. Knowing how he really felt about himself and about what had happened let Tony know better how to deal with Tim for the last days of the trip. And he was also relieved that Tim had said something because, even if he wasn't suicidal now, Tony could easily see that feeling of not deserving help leading him to that eventually.

But not now. Now that Tony knew the problem, he wouldn't let it go any further.

And he would keep up his deal with Tim, even if Tim hadn't really verbally agreed to it. He would act like he had. In fact...

He pulled out his phone and called Delilah.

" _Hello?"_

"Hey, Delilah. It's Tony."

" _Tony! Hi. What's up? Is Tim okay? Are you?"_

Tony laughed. "I think you know the answer to the second question. He's not okay, but I know what's going on, and part of it is that he thinks he doesn't _deserve_ to be okay. I told him that he has to get some help with it, and while he didn't actually agree, he didn't say no."

" _I've already made an appointment with his therapist. He wasn't very happy about that when I told him."_

"He didn't mention that to me."

" _He wouldn't, but yeah, I did. As soon as you get back."_

"Well, we'll be on our way tomorrow morning. And we're taking I-80."

" _Tim told me. Tony, are_ you _okay?"_

"Yeah. I'm not great, but I'm okay. Actually, all this stuff with Tim has made me decide to get some help, too."

" _I'm sorry for dragging you into this, Tony. I knew you could help Tim, but..."_

"Hey, don't start talking like Tim has been. I don't mind. Tim told me that I was family. That's what you do for family."

" _Tony, never question that you're part of the family. Never. You are, and even if you need to get away from us and our problems to help yourself, you're still family."_

"Sure, tell me that _now_ ," Tony said, but he was really touched. Tim had said that Tony was family more than once, but Delilah never had.

" _Tony, I don't even have the words for how grateful I am that you and Tim became friends. I know it's been hard for you to be friends with him sometimes, but you've been there for him so much. I just wish we could give you what you've given us."_

"Hey..." Tony began, but Delilah didn't let him get out more than that one word.

" _Actually, I know we're a few months early, but Tim was going to invite you to join us for Christmas this year. Tommy's going to be two, and Tim was going to invite you last year, but he chickened out. He said that you probably had other plans. But he wanted you to be there. So this year, I said that he had to ask...but because of all this, it might get forgotten."_

"What?"

" _If you really do have plans or don't want to be there, that's fine, of course, but I wanted to get it out while I was thinking about it and..."_

"Whoa, wait a second, Delilah. It's October."

" _Yeah. Like I said, it's early."_

"What if you change your mind?"

" _We won't. Ever."_

The fan went off in the bathroom.

"Uh oh. Tim'll be coming out of the bathroom soon. You can put my name down, and we'll talk later, okay?"

" _Okay. Thank you again, and I can't wait to see both of you."_

"Bye."

" _Bye."_

Tony hung up right as the door opened. He wasn't really trying to hide that he was calling, but he'd have a hard time keeping his focus on Delilah if Tim was standing there staring at him, wondering why Tony was talking to his wife.

"Hey, Tim. Another bath?"

Tim managed a slight smile.

"No. Just a quick shower. Not really dirty, but..."

"Don't have to justify your personal hygiene to me. I have to spend way too much time in close quarters with you for the next few days."

Another slight smile.

"I should call Delilah, but I don't feel like I can tonight," he said, softly.

Ah, perfect opening.

"Don't worry. I called her while you were in the bathroom. She's going to be happy to have you home."

"Until I'm there," Tim said and took a deep breath. He shook his head before Tony could tell Tim to knock it off. "You don't have to say it, Tony."

Tony could see that Tim was worn out, probably from all the emotional extremes he'd hit today. This rather bland version of Tim was not really great, but Tony could hope for something good to come out of it. Tim wasn't going to be good yet, but any improvement would be good in Tony's eyes.

"You going to sleep okay tonight?" Tony asked.

"Probably. Never know, though."

Tim trudged over to his bed and sat down, facing the Golden Gate Bridge again.

"Okay, Tim. We don't need to get into it again, but is there anything else I should know?"

He heard Tim laugh a little.

"No. No, there's nothing else. It's just that...emotional...emptiness. I've had it happen before. It's almost a relief, after everything else. I don't know that it'll last forever, but for the moment... I'm okay with it. Better to feel nothing for a while."

Tony walked over and patted Tim on the back.

"Please, Tony. No more talking about important stuff, tonight. Just let me feel nothing for a while."

Tony didn't like the idea of Tim feeling _nothing_ , but he could acknowledge that after all the extremes, Tim might do well to have some downtime.

"As long as it doesn't mean anything serious," Tony said.

Tim shook his head. "Nope. Just nothingness. Maybe that will be enough to get me to sleep."

Then, he lay down and closed his eyes.

Tony was a bit nonplussed, but he decided to go with it. In a way, it was a relief for him, too. He just didn't want to tell Tim that.

"Good night, Tim."

"I hope so," Tim whispered.

Tony went into the bathroom and showered, too. He didn't take much time, but when he came out, Tim really did appear to be sleeping. His breathing was deep and even.

Taking comfort in that, Tony decided to go to bed himself, but he didn't think he was really ready to sleep. So he turned off the lights and turned on the TV with the volume very low. Something frivolous to take his mind off of everything else. In fact, he found a station playing a marathon of _The Muppet Show_ and decided that would work. He lay there listening to Statler and Waldorf mocking all the segments, Miss Piggy begging to go on and perform, and Kermit trying to keep everything going.

Gradually, he heard less and less of the show, not really noticing, just drifting off into sleep.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It was light that woke him up, and Tony was thrilled with that. Light in his eyes, signaling a new day. He sat up and looked at the clock. Nice. After six, even. They had to get going to get back to D.C., but Tony was thrilled with a full night's sleep. He stretched and looked over at Tim and his contented feeling faded a little. Tim was asleep, but he'd obviously had a bad night. He was curled up in a tight ball, holding a pillow, his face blotchy. It looked like the emptiness hadn't lasted.

Well, it couldn't have and it really shouldn't, in any case, but with this being the alternative, Tony knew that Tim wouldn't be very happy about it.

"Hey, Tim. You awake?"

Tim's eyes opened and he looked at Tony with an empty expression. He sat up in complete silence. Tony was trying to think of what to say when Tim surprised him by laughing. It wasn't a happy laugh, but Tony chose to treat it that way.

"Okay. What's so funny? It looks like you had a bad night."

"I did, and it's all your fault," Tim said, although he was actually smiling shakily.

"My fault? What did I do?"

"Did you know that, until you were making me talk about this stuff, I'd never had a single dream of what happened?" He laughed again, although it sounded almost more like a hiccup. "And last night, I dreamed the whole thing again, but this time, I knew what was coming and I was trying to do something different to stop it, but I couldn't. She still died. It's all your fault," Tim said, obviously trying not to cry, but he was still almost smiling.

"Tim...I don't get this."

Tim stood up and walked over to the window yet again.

"I'm...I'm saying thanks, Tony," Tim said in a choked voice. "Even though I hate how I feel. Even though I can't believe that this isn't something I deserve. Even though I had a really miserable night. Even with all that...I'm saying thanks."

"If you're still feeling the same way, then, what are you thanking me for?" Tony asked, feeling more confused than anything.

"Because you're an outside voice. And I can hope that maybe what you're saying is true. And a week ago, even if someone had told me the same things you are, I wouldn't have believed them. And I don't know what makes the difference." Tim turned back and the tears were in his eyes but not falling. "But this is...better, even if it's still awful. So...thanks. It's all your fault." Tim tried to smile again.

Tony laughed a little, but he was feeling a little choked up himself and he wasn't sure he could say anything without sounding mushy.

"Anytime, Tim," Tony said.

"Yeah, I know. And I really want to go home, now."

"Okay. Then, let's go."

They both got ready quickly, skipped on an expensive breakfast at the hotel, drove to the same bakery they'd gone to before to get coffee and donuts. Then, they started the long drive back to D.C. Since they'd already been over the Golden Gate Bridge and had seen it from their hotel room, Tony decided that they'd go north on highway 101 and then cross the bay by San Quentin. The bridge was interesting enough that even Tim agreed that it was worth going a little out of their way to see it and since it would keep them out of most of San Francisco, it might even be faster. The road joined up with I-80 just on the other side.

Tony was driving for now. Tim still looked shaky and didn't seem to have slept well, while Tony had.

And yet, somehow, it really was better. Tony didn't really know why, and Tim had a possibility for why, but neither of them really knew. They just knew it was better without really being good.

"You okay with staying I-80 all the way?" Tony asked, remembering Tim's regret that the highway 50 didn't actually go to the ocean.

"Yeah. It'll be faster," Tim said.

"Okay, while I'm getting us out of San Francisco and then out of Sacramento, you figure out how far we're going to go each day. It'll help us get back faster and it'll give you a distraction."

Tim glanced at him and nodded.

"Okay."

Tim pulled out the atlas and started looking. Tony smiled when Tim started jotting down notes. It was just such a Tim thing to do, where Tony would just estimate. Tim was actually figuring it out.

It was twenty silent minutes while Tim occasionally pulled out his phone and did some search or another and then back to the atlas.

"Okay," Tim said. "If we go to Salt Lake, today, Lincoln, tomorrow, and Indianapolis, the day after, we'd be back in D.C., the day after and not too late, but it'll be eleven hours today, twelve hours tomorrow, and then ten hours and then nine."

"Will you be doing any of that driving?" Tony asked.

"I hope so."

"Me, too."

"Are you okay with it?"

"Yeah. Are you sure you don't want to push it more than that?"

"Yeah. I'd rather not be driving until we're both brain dead. One is enough."

"Tim," Tony warned.

"I know," Tim said.

"Okay."

That was all.

They drove to Sacramento, filled up, and went on. There wasn't much talking, but some of the tension was gone from the car, even with the silence. They drove to Reno and filled up, and then, there was a vast expanse of empty Nevada to drive across. Before they drove out of the gas station, suddenly spoke.

"Tony, I'll drive."

"Are you sure, Tim? If you're not ready, it's not good for either of us."

"I know," Tim said. "Check with me in Winnemucca, and we'll see how I'm doing."

"I'll check with you sooner than that. Really, Tim, are you going to be able to drive?"

Tim nodded. "Yes."

"Okay."

Tony wasn't sure about letting Tim drive, but he was going to try and trust Tim to know when he was really ready for it. They switched sides and Tim pulled out of the gas station. They got back on the interstate and started driving. Tony was nervous about this. He leaned over and turned on the radio so that they had some music to hopefully keep Tim relaxed, but after about ten minutes, he decided that he didn't want to risk some news brief that mentioned what had happened. Instead, he got out his CDs and popped one in.

"Nothing like a little Frank Sinatra to keep you going," Tony said, when Tim gave him a surprised look.

"Okay."

Having Frank crooning in the background helped Tony relax a little, but he still was watching Tim more often than not, just in case. It didn't matter that he'd trusted Tim to drive before knowing everything and Tim had been okay. Now, Tim was actually trying to deal with it and that could lead to problems.

"Tony, I'm okay to drive," Tim said after an hour...and who knew how many glances.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Do you mind that _I'm_ not?" Tony asked.

Tim actually smiled. "No. I don't mind. Just don't keep asking me. It makes me nervous."

Tony laughed. "Nice one."

"But if you want, you can take over at Winnemucca."

"I can do that."

"But we have to stop at the Salt Flats."

"The what?"

"The Salt Flats. Just over the border into Utah. They're on the map and I want to see them."

"Okay." Tony was surprised that there was _anything_ Tim cared to see, but if he was noticing something positive, then Tony was all for it. "Sounds fine to me."

"Good."

Tim drove the rest of the way to Winnemucca and then they got gas again...and Tony took over the driving. It had been nice to have a couple of hours' break. They drove through Nevada and it was also quite desolate. They stopped in Elko and got gas and kept going. Then, they got to Wendover, right on the border of Utah. They stopped and got gas and something to eat. Then, Tim started looking for the chance to get off and see the Salt Flats.

"There, Tony!" Tim said. "Take that exit. The Bonneville Speedway."

"Speedway? That's not a salt flat."

"Yes, it is! Get off there!" Tim demanded.

"Okay, okay."

Tony took the exit and followed the signs. Suddenly, the road ended and they had to decide if they were going to drive across the salt to the speedway or stop there.

"Tim, I'm not sure I want to drive over there."

"I don't care about going over there. These are the salt flats, Tony. This is what I wanted to see."

Tim got out of the car and walked out onto the salt. It was white. Completely white. With the sun beating down on it, it was really bright, and it was desolate, but beautiful in a way.

"Tony, feel the salt."

"What?"

"Stop asking questions! Just do it. Feel the salt!"

Tony walked down onto the salt and knelt down beside Tim. With the heat of the sun, he would have thought it would be hot, too.

"It's not hot."

"No. It's cool. Because it's white. It's reflecting all the sunlight. Like snow, only it's salt."

"It's weird, but it looks like snow, too."

"Yeah."

"Why did you want to see this so much?" Tony asked.

"I don't know," Tim admitted. "But I saw it on the map and I didn't know what it was and I wanted to."

They looked around. There were large brown mountains on all sides, but the white salt really dominated.

"I'm glad we did. This is interesting," Tony said. "And if you wanted to see it, I'm glad you got to."

Tim smiled a little.

"It's like the Badlands. Beautiful desolation."

Tim always had a little bit of melodrama in him, and Tony could see it coming out.

"Well, let's take some pictures. We still have a couple of hours before we get to Salt Lake City and I'm ready to get there."

"Okay," Tim said.

He was staring off across the flats and Tony took a picture before Tim realized it. Then, they got a few other pictures. And they got one together with the camera perched precariously on the car hood. It was about the first time in the trip where a picture with people in it wasn't guaranteed to be depressing.

Tony started back to the car to rescue his camera from the hood when he suddenly felt a thump on his back. He spun around, feeling his back at the same time and saw Tim kneeling on the ground.

...obviously having just dug up some salt and thrown it at him.

"Hey! What was that for?" Tony demanded.

And in a moment that was so completely normal that it felt like it came from a parallel universe, Tim smiled.

"You said it was like snow."

"That doesn't mean you have to throw it at me!"

"Sure, it does. What else is snow for?" Tim asked, still smiling.

It was a rare moment when Tim was smiling and Tony wasn't, and Tony wasn't sure where this had come from, but he didn't want to let the smile disappear. Sure, it would eventually, but if Tim was actually enjoying himself...

He grinned.

"You realize that you can't get back to the car until I hit you, right?"

"Since when is that a rule?"

"Since you hit me with a handful of salt," Tony said.

"It's not my fault you didn't think of it first."

"That's not the point!"

"What's the point, then?" Tim asked.

"The point is that it's my car. I've got the keys. I make the rules."

"Well, if you put it that way, I'll give you one try."

Tony raised an eyebrow and then knelt down to dig up some salt. It was a strange feeling, not just because of Tim acting so normal. The salt looked like snow, but it sure didn't _feel_ like snow. He got a clump of it and saw Tim standing there, just daring him to hit him. Where this whimsy had come from, Tony didn't know, but he also didn't know if he could actually hit Tim at this distance. Tim's aim had improved over the years and Tony might even have to admit that, when it came just to aiming at things, Tim might be a bit better.

"Okay, Tony. Your turn," Tim said.

And suddenly, Tony thought this felt very familiar. In Alaska, with real snow. Tim had taken him by surprise then, too.

"You didn't offer an unmoving target in Alaska," Tony said.

"It was real snow in Alaska," Tim said, still smiling.

"And how is this better?"

"It's salt," Tim said.

"That's not an answer!"

"Are you going to throw it or not, Tony?" Tim asked. "Or are you just going to give up and admit that I have better aim?"

Tony couldn't let that stand, which was, of course, what Tim had intended. He threw the salt, but it broke up and only dusted Tim's shoes. Tim's smile almost became a grin.

"Now, can I get in the car?"

"I shouldn't. I should just make you walk to Salt Lake City."

"Not my fault you can't throw salt."

Tony rolled his eyes.

"All right, Tim. Come on. Let's get going. I don't want to stay out here all day with you ribbing me."

"I can rib you from the car."

"Then, I'll toss you out and make you walk."

Tim actually laughed a little bit and then, he walked over to join Tony, slightly warily, it was true, but he did it.

Tony already planned on getting back at Tim somehow, but not right now.

Instead, they got back in the car and drove the rest of the way to Salt Lake. Tim found a hotel just off the interstate. It was near the Salt Lake airport where there were plenty of choices. They picked a middle-of-the-road option and were happy to get off the road. And Tony was happy to get out of the desolation of Nevada and most of western Utah. He just wasn't a desert guy.

They lugged their stuff into the room and flopped down on the beds.

"Well?" Tony asked.

"I'm tired, but I should call Delilah, first," Tim said. He pulled out his phone while still lying down.

Tony watched him as he dialed. He looked reluctant to do it, but Tony knew he would. Tim was at the stage where he would at least do something to help another person. It wasn't great, but it was something.

"Hey, Delilah," Tim said. "Yeah. We're in Salt Lake City."

Satisfied that Tim had done his duty, Tony went into the bathroom to get ready for bed. He didn't linger in the bathroom, but by the time he came out, Tim was off the phone.

Tim went into the bathroom without comment, but while he was in there, Tony decided to call Ducky.

" _Dr. Mallard."_

"Hey, Ducky. I have to be quick, but have you talked to Gibbs?"

" _Yes, and I must say that Timothy's anger has shamed him more than I would have expected."_

"Do you think he'd actually _say_ it?"

" _I don't know that part, but how are things on your end?"_

"Well, I'm really glad I called you before I talked to Tim again. I got him to talk about the real problem. He's been trying to punish himself for not being good enough. He said that he didn't deserve to be helped."

" _Ah. That is unfortunate, and I'm glad you were able to get him to speak of it."_

"We're on our way back now. Tim insisted on driving for a couple of hours today. Do think it's safe?"

" _Do you think he's liable to have some kind of a flashback?"_

"He hasn't any other time when he drove, but for some reason, I'm more worried now."

" _I'd guess that, as long as you're not thinking he'd fall asleep, he should be all right, but you should evaluate that yourself, being the one on the scene, so to speak. When will you be back?"_

"Tim figured out our route and it should be two more days of driving and then, we'll get back to DC in the afternoon on the last day."

" _I'm glad you're not rushing it too much. While I can understand the desire to get Timothy back where he can be helped, exhausting yourselves won't really be an improvement. And speaking of that, how are you doing?"_

"Not as stressed as the first time, but I'll be glad to get back, too."

" _Take care of yourself, too, Anthony. You won't do anyone any favors if you can't tolerate the strain."_

"I'll be fine."

" _I'm sure you will be, but you still won't do anyone any favors if you don't take care of yourself, too."_

"I know."

" _Good."_

"I'd better go."

" _Drive safely and pleasant dreams. ...but not while you're driving."_

Tony chuckled. "Right. Thanks, Duck."

" _You're welcome. Good night."_

"Good night."

Tony hung up and lay down just as Tim came out of the bathroom.

"I'm going to turn on the TV. Do you mind?" Tony asked. "I think it helped me get to sleep last night."

"That's fine," Tim said quietly.

Tony looked at Tim. He didn't look all that excited to go to sleep.

"Tim, no avoiding sleep. I know you don't like having nightmares, but I really would like help driving and I can't do that if you don't sleep enough."

Tim smiled a little. Tony was banking on Tim wanting to do something well. Maybe it was a little manipulative, but he would do what it took at this point.

"Just don't put it on something loud," he said, finally, and got into bed.

Tony smiled and looked through the options and then settled on the Cooking Channel. Nothing exciting, but nothing that would suddenly be extremely loud. He turned the volume down and he and Tim both lay in bed, staring at the TV, hoping for an easy transition to sleep.

Tony didn't know which of them fell asleep first.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Tim woke up early, well before Tony did, but he _had_ slept through most of the night. He didn't know if Tony had awakened from a dream, but this time, Tim had dreamt that he'd killed Gibbs. Now, he was sitting on the bed, deciding if that was wish fulfillment or a nightmare.

Did he really want Gibbs dead? The anger and the outright hatred were both still there, but did he genuinely _want_ to kill Gibbs? It actually worried him a little that he wasn't sure. What really differentiated him from the man who had killed Allison Jenkins if he felt that he had the right to kill Gibbs?

 _But I don't feel that way,_ Tim said to himself. _I might not shed any tears if Gibbs was dead, but I don't think I have the right to kill him. Do I?_

After all, given the chance, he'd merely punched Gibbs in the face. He'd used his fist, not his gun, and he'd still had his gun in his hand.

But did he actually _want_ Gibbs dead?

That was the question on the table, and it got him away from replaying those awful moments in the house over and over again.

Of course, Dr. Bourning would say that Tim was just avoiding the issue and that he needed to deal with it. ...which was why he had stopped going. Tim hated how he felt when he had to relive those awful moments. It had been painful when Dr. Bourning had made him talk about Dearing. Tim had no doubt that it would be even more painful this time when things were real. He didn't want to talk about it, and he hated that Dr. Bourning would probably be right, that Tony was probably right, that Delilah was probably right.

He hated that he was wrong.

He hated the feeling of failure that always accompanied being wrong.

Maybe, this time, he'd be able to convince Dr. Bourning that he was right.

There was a recurring urge to make a run for it. He wouldn't give into that feeling, of course, but it was there. A feeling that, if he could only run far enough, he'd escape all the extremes, the highs and lows, both.

And, as always, accompanying that feeling was the additional feeling that he was a failure for wanting to abandon his life just because it got a little hard.

And then, his mind went back to Gibbs again. Did he want Gibbs dead? Was that dream something he really wanted?

"I don't know," he whispered.

He honestly didn't know if the idea of Gibbs being dead was a good thing or a bad thing.

Which was why he was sitting on his bed, thinking about it for a couple of hours before Tony woke up. He wanted to be sure of _something_ , but he wasn't, not about Gibbs. He remembered how upset Tony had been when he'd said that he'd considered going vigilante and taking out Dearing himself. How would he feel if he knew that Tim wasn't sure whether or not he wanted _Gibbs_ to be dead?

Which brought him to another question. Should he mention this to Tony?

No. No, there was no reason to bring this particular wrinkle up. It wasn't like he'd be seeing Gibbs anytime soon. He'd be happy never to see Gibbs again, never to have to think about the fact that his former boss, someone he'd worked with for about ten years, had no faith in him to do things right, that his former boss had not only broken his own set of stupid rules, he hadn't even had to really suffer for it. Sure, Tim had punched him and sure, he'd been suspended, but those weren't really sources of suffering. Suffering wasn't something physical. It had nothing to do with a job. Suffering was what Tim was doing. Suffering was this constant replaying of a horrible death. It was the constant second-guessing. It was being unsure of whether or not he wanted to kill his former boss. _That_ was suffering. Nothing Gibbs could be feeling would be the same.

Tony could say that Gibbs felt terrible, but even if he did, he didn't feel the way Tim did, and quite frankly, even granting that much, Tim felt that Gibbs deserved it.

He sat on the bed, staring into the ether, thinking over and over again about the fact that he'd dreamed of killing Gibbs and didn't know how he felt about it.

"Tim?"

Tony's voice startled him and Tim turned quickly to see Tony looking at him with concern. Mentally, Tim cursed that he'd been so disconnected that he hadn't noticed Tony getting up, giving Tony yet another reason to worry.

"Yeah?"

"How long have you been up?"

"A little while. I slept through most of the night. Just couldn't get back to sleep," Tim said, quickly. "Did you?"

"Woke up once, but I got back to sleep. You going to be okay to drive some today?"

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

"Positive," Tim said, thinking that it was about the only positive thing he could say right now.

"What were you thinking about?" Tony asked.

"Nothing really," Tim said, not willing to give voice to his bitter thoughts.

"That's a lie, and we both know it," Tony said.

"Nothing you don't already know about then," Tim said, actually lying again but not wanting to say anything about his dream.

"Okay, okay. You want to shower first or me?"

"You can," Tim said. "I'll go second."

"Okay."

Tony went into the bathroom, and Tim sat, thinking again about his dream. Mostly because, as confusing as it was, he'd rather be confused than upset.

Then, suddenly, his mind went back to the last road trip, the one in Alaska and he felt a surge of regret that he didn't have that happiness in his life right now. He lay back on the bed, wishing that there was some escape from the emotions he had been feeling almost nonstop for the last three weeks. He hated them, and hate wasn't really a great feeling, either.

He'd had that moment at the Salt Flats, and he didn't know why he'd been able to set things aside then. It had been hard to do it, but it had also been nice.

Tony came out of the bathroom a few minutes later and Tim went in. He showered quickly and then, they packed up and left. There was a free continental breakfast, so they ate there first and then Tony started them off. He drove through the Rockies, through most of Wyoming. Tim took over and drove for a few hours. They stopped for gas. They stopped to get some food. But most of the time, they were just driving. Tony took over and got them the rest of the way. When they got to Lincoln, Tim found them a hotel. They were thrilled to get to the hotel. Tim called Delilah and told her that they were fine. They went to bed.

Tim woke up early. Tony woke up early. They didn't bother to delay. Instead, they ate breakfast and took off for Indianapolis. This was where they would get off I-80 and get on I-70 to avoid Chicago. Just like the day before, they drove without really doing anything else. They stopped for gas. They switched drivers. They stopped to eat, but they'd been through this part of the country before, so they weren't really interested in stopping to see any sights. There was a feeling that something bigger was waiting for them back in D.C. They took I-74, through Peoria, down to Indianapolis where Tim found them a hotel again, and they were, again, relieved to have a break from driving, no matter how brief.

They both went to bed quickly and slept.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony woke up first, for the first time in days. He rolled over and looked at Tim who was still sleeping. This was their last day, and Tony was going to force one more hard conversation on Tim. He hoped that this would be good, but he really didn't know. He hoped that Tim would still be willing to speak to him after he did this, but he didn't know. They'd get back to D.C. by about four in the afternoon and he was going to take Tim over to talk to Gibbs.

He felt like Tim needed this. He needed to be able to say what he felt to Gibbs (preferably without punching him this time) and maybe, just maybe, Ducky would have worked his magic and got Gibbs to be willing to talk to Tim.

Tony felt a little torn in this situation. He agreed with Tim that Gibbs had been wrong to ignore Tim's orders, but he was also sure that Gibbs felt terrible about how his decision had fallen out. He was sure that, while it definitely wasn't the same as what Tim was feeling, Gibbs would have been affected. With all the years he'd worked with Gibbs, he couldn't help but feel just a little bit of sympathy for Gibbs' situation as well. He didn't dare say that to Tim while Tim was so angry and upset, but he felt it.

Tony decided to shower. He was going to suggest that Tim drive first because they only had about nine hours to drive today and that would mean that Tony was definitely driving when they got to D.C.

When he got out, Tim was starting to stir and he sat up, looking around blearily.

"Good morning, Tim," Tony said. "How did you sleep?"

Tim blinked a few times and then looked at him.

"Fine," he said.

"Well, get moving. We only have nine hours to drive and you're driving first, today."

Tim took a deep breath and then, nodded without saying anything. He grabbed some clothes and walked into the bathroom.

Tony listened and was glad when the shower went on pretty quickly. Tim wasn't lingering. Tim was coming back out of the bathroom after only about ten minutes, and he looked much more awake.

"You sure you want to trust me to drive first?" Tim asked.

"Yep. Then, I'll take whatever we have left," Tony said, forcing the cheeriness a little bit. "So if you want to drive a _lot_ you can feel free."

Tim smiled a little.

"I doubt you'll be able to take me driving for a long period of time. You'd probably get an ulcer," he said.

"If I don't already have one, I won't get one now," Tony said. "You ready?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Let's go!"

They got their stuff, again availed themselves of the continental breakfast, and headed out, stopping only to get some gas before hitting the interstate, ready to get back to D.C.

"I-70 all the way in, right?" Tony asked.

"Yeah. I'm assuming that you're not going to make us drive back to Ocean City before you declare the road trip over?" Tim asked.

"Even I have my limits, McGee," Tony said, grinning. "We can save that for the next road trip when we drive another of these roads. Maybe Route 66!"

Tim smiled, but it was wistful, and Tony understood why.

"Hey, I know you don't feel like anything will change, but it will. By the time we're both allowed to take personal days again, you'll be ready. Maybe we could take Tommy next time."

"It would have to be a lot shorter," Tim said.

"You don't think a toddler will have the tolerance?"

"No, I don't think his father would have the tolerance."

Tony laughed. He just hoped that Tim would still be willing to speak to him after he sprung his last unpleasant surprise on him when they got back to D.C. He was ready for some fireworks.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim drove for about four hours before they switched off in Wheeling, Ohio, just over the border with Pennsylvania. Tony took over, ready to face some anger when Tim realized where they were going.

They drove across part of Pennsylvania and dropped down into Maryland. The exit that would take them to Silver Spring was getting ever closer, and Tony would not be taking that exit.

There it was.

...and there it went.

"Hey, Tony. That was the exit," Tim said. "You missed it."

"I didn't miss it."

"Yeah, you did," Tim said. "I know where I live. I'm not that nuts."

"Okay, I did miss it, but I did it on purpose."

"Why? No offense, but I want to go home."

"One more stop, Tim."

"Where?"

"It's a surprise. You'll see."

Tim looked more than a little confused and also a little irritated.

"I'm not going to like this surprise, am I," he said after a few seconds.

"Why would you say that?"

"Because you're not telling me where we're going. We're almost home. You clearly have something else in mind, and I think I'm not going to like it. In fact, you look so shifty right now that I'm probably going to hate it. Right?"

"I don't know," Tony said, lying through his teeth. Tim was _definitely_ going to hate it.

He kept driving, Tim staring at him more often than not.

...but not for long.

Tony could tell the exact moment that Tim began to suspect where they were going. He started looking around suspiciously.

"Tony. Where are we going?"

"Where do you think we're going?"

There was another pause. Then, Tim's eyes widened.

"No, Tony," he said.

"Yes, Tim."

"No!"

Tony turned down the street.

"I'm not doing this, Tony," Tim said.

"You need to, Tim," Tony said.

"No!"

And they pulled up in front of Gibbs' house.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

"Tony, I told you how I feel about Gibbs," Tim said. "I'm not going in there."

"You need to actually talk to him, Tim."

"No! I don't," Tim said, angrily. "I can't believe that, after everything I've told you, you'd still do this to me, Tony!"

"Tim, the way you feel is fine, but it's too strong and you can't get over it without talking to Gibbs himself."

"No!" Tim said. "I'm not doing this! You can go in and talk to him if you want, but I'm not. In fact, I'll just get a taxi the rest of the way home. Have fun."

Tim reached over to open the door and Tony put on the locks. Tim looked at him in surprise.

"What do you think you're doing?" Tim demanded.

"Believe it or not, I'm trying to help you, Tim," Tony said, firmly.

"Well, I don't. I've told you over and over that this is not what I need. So you can take your help and shove it!"

He pushed the unlock button and Tony locked them again.

"Let me out of here, Tony," he said.

"Only if you're going to talk to Gibbs."

"I'd rather see him dead than talk to him!" Tim said, furious beyond measure. "Do you know that I've dreamt about killing him nearly every night since we left San Francisco? Did you know that? Of course you didn't! I didn't tell you because I never dreamed that you'd do this to me, Tony! I hate Gibbs so much I'm dreaming of killing him!"

Tony was shocked. He knew that Tim hated Gibbs. He'd made no secret of that, but it was a far cry to go from hate to kill. ...but then, Tim sighed and looked out the windshield.

"And the only problem is that I can't decide if I'm happy about it or not."

"Happy about what?" Tony asked, relieved that Tim seemed slightly calmer.

"About killing him," Tim said. "I can't decide if it's a nightmare that I'm killing him or the best moment in the world. Because no matter what it is, it's terrible. I'm either having just another turn of the screw of this Hell I'm living in or I'm a wannabe killer no better than the man who killed Allison Jenkins."

"You're not the same."

"It doesn't matter, Tony," Tim said, angry again. "It doesn't matter what you say about this! I know you're trying to help, but it doesn't matter because it's the stuff in my head that matters and I don't want to talk to the man I've been dreaming about killing, okay?"

"You don't have your gun this time, Tim," Tony said. "And when you did, you didn't do it."

"I know that."

"Then, come inside with me and talk to him. If he won't talk back, then, we'll leave again. Just try, Tim. Not for Gibbs' sake. For yours."

"Why in the world would you think that this would help _me_?" Tim demanded.

"Because it's Gibbs," Tony said, simply.

And that really was the reason. If it had been any other team Tim had been working with and if it had been any other team lead who had ignored Tim's orders, there wouldn't be this extra pain associated with it. Tim's anger at Gibbs was because, of all the people at NCIS, _Gibbs_ should have trusted him. It was because Gibbs was the one who had brought him onto a real team. Gibbs was the one who had made him a field agent. Gibbs was the one who had done all that. ...and Gibbs was the one who had betrayed him and left him to confront a horrible murder, without any apology...because to apologize was a sign of weakness.

Tony unlocked the doors. Tim looked at him and got out of the car. Tony did, too.

Tim started to walk away, down the sidewalk.

"Tim," Tony said.

Tim stopped, but didn't turn around.

"Please," Tony said.

Tim's shoulders slumped and he sighed. He turned around and Tony could see the turmoil again. He was starting to think that it was better when he could read Tim like a book than when Tim was a blank slate. The blank slate usually meant Tim was hiding something really serious. When he let Tony see how he felt, he was trusting Tony enough to see it.

"Tony...I don't want to do this," he said.

"I know, but I _really_ think you should."

Tim looked at Gibbs' house.

"Will you be there?"

"If you want me to be."

Tim nodded.

"Okay," he said. "But if Gibbs doesn't say anything, I'm not staying. I'm not dealing with him if he's not speaking. I'll say my piece, but I'm not going to give him any leeway. I'm not going to say the words for him."

"Fine."

Tim squared his shoulders and nodded.

"Fine."

Tim walked back to Tony and then deliberately looked away from him and walked up the sidewalk to Gibbs' front door.

Tony followed, hoping for the best. He had no idea what _the best_ would be, but he hoped for it, nevertheless.

Tim stopped at the front door.

"Should I knock?" Tim said softly.

"Is the door locked?" Tony asked.

Tim tried the knob.

"No."

"Then, just go in."

"I still don't want to."

"Do it anyway."

Tim took a deep breath and opened the door.

Tony took a deep breath and stepped in after him.

The house had a very dour feeling to it, in Tony's opinion. He had no idea what Tim was feeling, but as empty as Gibbs' house always was, this felt much worse.

Tim didn't seem disposed to speaking.

"Gibbs!" Tony called out, careful not to say _Boss_ while Tim was so angry.

A long silence. Tony could see that Tim was ready to leave. He walked up beside Tim and urged him forward.

"Gibbs!" Tony called again.

To his surprise, he heard a door open and close from the second floor. Gibbs was _never_ upstairs. They both turned toward the stairs and Tim actually took a step back. He hadn't made a sound yet.

Gibbs came thumping down the stairs, but he stopped mid-stride when he saw Tony and Tim standing there. Tony could tell the instant that he became extraneous. Gibbs looked at Tim and sighed. He walked the rest of the way down the stairs. Tony could see a healing bruise on Gibbs' face. It was dark enough still that Tony could see just how hard Tim must have hit him. There had been no holding back on Tim's side, and Gibbs hadn't had a chance to defend himself.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Ask Tony," Tim said. "It wasn't my idea. I would have been glad never to see you again."

Tony almost winced at the cold tone, mostly because he knew the fire it was concealing. Tim's expression had gone blank. While he trusted Tony enough to let him see how he felt, he clearly did not trust Gibbs.

"Not even to finish the job?" Gibbs asked, gesturing to his face.

"Don't tempt me, Gibbs," Tim said, the cold tone heating up just a little bit. "I don't have a gun with me this time, but that doesn't mean I'm helpless."

"Feel free, if that's what you want," Gibbs said.

Tony wanted to say something, but he didn't. He just stood there, watching the two parties squaring off, and he could see the hurt in both of them. Gibbs wasn't unscathed, although he was speaking as if he was. Tony doubted that Tim could see it. ...or rather that he didn't care to look for it.

In fact, Tony noticed that Tim's fist clenched a little, and he took a hesitant step toward Tim, ready to hold him back from laying into Gibbs again. Gibbs raised an eyebrow at him.

"You here to protect me or protect him, DiNozzo?" he asked.

Tim turned to Tony and looked at him, but said nothing.

"I was hoping that you'd talk, Gibbs," Tony said.

"Oh, Gibbs doesn't want to _talk_ ," Tim said, the bitterness very apparent. "Gibbs doesn't _talk_. He stares. The only time Gibbs talks is when he's decided that he's right and everyone else is wrong. It doesn't matter what the situation is. It's all about _him_. Isn't it, Gibbs."

"If it makes you feel better to think so," Gibbs said.

Tony could see that Gibbs actually meant it, but that Tim heard mocking. Tim took a threatening step forward, and Tony grabbed Tim's arm.

"Don't, Tim," he said.

"Let him, Tony," Gibbs said. "If it will help."

Tony looked at Gibbs, a little angry himself. Could Gibbs really not see how much he _wasn't_ helping the situation?

"You know it won't help, Gibbs," Tony said. "Tim, it won't make you feel any better."

"Oh, I think it would," Tim said. "Maybe I don't care anymore, Tony."

Tony could feel Tim shaking. There was another outburst coming. Tony could see it.

"No, Tim. That's not what you want."

Tim pushed Tony away. Tony wasn't ready for it and stumbled backward, barely keeping on his feet. Tim didn't even look at him. He walked over to Gibbs and pushed him backwards.

"And what do _you_ want, Gibbs? Huh? What do you want? Do you know what I want? Do you?"

Gibbs was silent.

"That wasn't a rhetorical question, Gibbs!" Tim said, almost shouting. "I want an answer! Do you know what I want?"

"No, Tim," Gibbs said, quietly.

"I want to be able to close my eyes and _not_ see Allison Jenkins getting shot in the head! That's what I want! Do you know what I can't have? I can't have that! It's my whole life right now, Gibbs! That's all I have! Everything is else is just an echo! It's nothing more than a distant echo, and I can barely hear it over..."

Suddenly, Tim stopped talking and just breathed heavily for a few seconds. Then, he turned away from Gibbs and Tony could see the devastation that Tim was trying to hide, even though what he was feeling was completely obvious to everyone in the room.

"'Please...don't let him kill me,'" Tim whispered, facing away from Gibbs.

Tony was there, but Tim wasn't looking at him. He was lost in his memories again. Tony took a step toward him but saw Gibbs shake his head. Uncertain, but willing to give Gibbs a chance, Tony stopped.

"'Please, don't let him kill me,'" Tim whispered again.

Tony knew what was coming next. He'd only get through half of it.

"'Please, don't let...'"

There was an empty bottle standing on a table beside Tim. Suddenly, Tim picked it up and threw it violently against the wall where it shattered into pieces. He turned back around.

He was almost crying, almost screaming, almost falling apart, and Tony was standing off to the side, just making sure that Tim didn't become physically violent because, if Gibbs didn't fight back (and Tony was pretty sure he wouldn't), Tim would eventually feel guilty about waling on someone who wasn't defending himself and Tim didn't need to feel any more guilt than he already felt.

"That's all I hear, Gibbs! That's it! That's all I have! And that is _your_ fault!"

"I know," Gibbs said.

It wasn't loud. It was barely above a whisper, really.

But it might as well have been a shout at the top of his lungs. Tim stopped shouting. He just stood there, breathing heavily, his lower lip quivering. He was on the verge of crying again. Gibbs walked over to him and grabbed Tim by the shoulders.

"I know, Tim. It _was_ my fault. I'm sorry."

The tears were closer, but Tim was still angry and he didn't want to let any of that go.

"What good does that do me, now?" Tim asked, his voice as shaky as everything else.

"Nothing," Gibbs said. "It doesn't do you any good. It doesn't make the pain go away. It doesn't make the nightmares stop."

"Then, why say it?"

"Because it still needs to be said. Apologies don't fix things, Tim. But they still need to be said when they're owed. I'm sorry for what I did."

"It doesn't bring her back to life," Tim said.

"I know. Nothing could."

"I can't forgive you. I still hate you," Tim said, but he was calmer than he had been, if no less pained.

"Good. Don't. It's the last thing I deserve."

"Why, Gibbs?" Tim asked, finally. The first time he'd really asked a question. "Why?"

"Because I was too afraid to wait," Gibbs said. "It wasn't you. It was about what I felt and I ignored everything else."

"You think that admitting it makes everything better?" Tim asked.

"No. Nothing will. Not right now. Maybe not ever. It won't for me."

"What do you mean?" Tony asked.

Gibbs walked into his kitchen and then came back with a piece of paper.

"My resignation," he said, holding it out.

"What?"

"It's my resignation from NCIS. It was either resign or be fired. Vance gave me the option. Past time anyway."

"Why?" Tim asked.

"Planned on fighting it, but I talked to Ducky. Changed my mind. I filed it this morning."

"Why fight it?" Tim asked.

Tony waited for Tim to say something more, but he didn't. He'd gone back to the blank stare again.

"Because that's what I do," Gibbs said.

"What _will_ you do?" Tony asked. Somehow, he just couldn't picture Gibbs anywhere but at NCIS.

"Don't know yet. I'll figure it out."

"And now you're off the hook," Tim said.

 _That_ was an attempt to be cruel, Tony knew. And he knew that Tim would probably think he should apologize to Gibbs for his behavior in a few weeks when he was feeling more stable. ...but he was also starting to see that Tim wasn't going to forgive easily, if at all. Gibbs had gone too far with Tim. Where Tony would be able let it go, given enough time, Tim wouldn't.

"I'll never be off the hook, Tim," Gibbs said. He sighed and finally said something genuine. "We both have to live with what happened...but at least you know that you didn't start it. I did."

"You think that makes it easier for me?" Tim demanded, headed toward anger again.

"No. I don't," Gibbs said. "That's not who you are."

"You don't know me, Gibbs," Tim said. "You don't. You never really have. You can claim to know me all you want, but you don't. You can do whatever analysis you think will help you, but you can't know me, because if you did, you'd never have put me in that position."

They stared at each other for a long time in complete silence. Then, Tim straightened, almost imperceptibly.

"For your sake, Gibbs, I'm sorry that you have to deal with it. I'm not so angry that I can't be a little bit sorry, but most of me is glad. Maybe I'll change, but right now, I'm glad that you're hurting, too. I can't forgive you for what you did to me because it had so many layers of betrayal to it, and at the time, you couldn't even admit that you'd done anything wrong. You betrayed me and then left me in that state. So honestly, I don't care about you or what your life is like for whatever years you have left. I don't want to see you and I don't want know how you are, either."

He turned away for a moment, but then, suddenly, he turned back.

"Good-bye, Gibbs."

Then, he walked out of the house. Tony hesitated and looked at Gibbs.

"I'll be fine, DiNozzo. Go."

"You sure, Boss?"

At the word _Boss_ , Gibbs actually smiled very slightly.

"Ducky's coming over later."

Tony nodded and ran out of the house. Tim was at his car, leaning on it, staring at the ground.

"Tim?" Tony asked.

Just breathing.

"You ready to go home?"

Tim suddenly looked up at him and shook his head.

"No."

"No?"

"No, Tony. I'm not." He took a deep shaking breath and let it out very shallowly. "I need to go...somewhere... and be alone."

"Where?" Tony asked. "We're in the middle of D.C."

"Please, Tony."

"Okay, okay."

Tony thought about it, and his mind hit on the one place that wasn't isolated but would give Tim a sanctuary. They got in the car, Tim closed his eyes and clenched his fists. Tony wasn't sure what was going on, but he could see some kind of explosion was imminent.

So he drove as quickly as he could to Georgetown and stopped in front of Ducky's place, praying that he'd be there...ready to break in if he wasn't.

He got Tim out of the car and almost led him to the front door. Then, he pounded on it.

Thankfully, Ducky came quickly.

"Anthony... Timothy... What..."

"Let us in, Ducky," Tony said, in a low voice. "Please."

"Of course."

Tim burst past them both and ran into Ducky's spare bedroom. He slammed the door behind him and both Tony and Ducky heard the wordless scream and then a thump.

"Oh, dear," Ducky said.

Tony said nothing. He ran to the door and opened it.

Tim was kneeling on the floor.

Sobbing.

Tony looked at Ducky for a moment and then knelt beside Tim and hugged him.

"It's okay, Tim," he said. "It's okay. Just like before. You're not alone. It's okay."

And Tony just prayed that it really was.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Tim didn't really hear what Tony was saying. Part of him was embarrassed that he was kneeling on the floor. He had tried to sit down and had missed the bed. But most of him was just focused on the tears which he wished he could stop. He didn't even know what he was really crying about.

A relentlessly objective part of his mind was scoffing at him for his actions and wondering why he was having a meltdown _now_ of all the times it could have happened.

But most of him was just crying.

After a few minutes, there was another voice intruding on the tears.

"All right, now, Timothy. It's time to calm down. Listen to the sound of my voice. Take a deep breath and then let it out slowly. Even if you can't get it on the first try, just keep trying. Deep breath in and a slow exhale. Deep breath. Slow exhale."

Tim tried to obey, but he wasn't doing a very good job of it.

"I-I-I c-can't," he choked out.

"Yes, you can. Just calm down and breathe. Deep breath in and long, slow breath out. You might as well join him, Anthony. I'm sure you could use some calm yourself. Deep breath in and slow exhale."

After another few minutes, Tim felt like he could actually obey, like breathing in and out was something he could control.

"Very good, Timothy. Good. Keep going. Deep breath. Slow exhale."

The tears ebbed.

"Now, open your eyes and don't be embarrassed."

Tim opened his eyes.

...and was heartily embarrassed.

He was still kneeling on the floor. Tony was beside him, with his arms around Tim's shoulders. Ducky was kneeling in front of him. All in all, it was way too much attention.

Ducky smiled.

"It's all right, lad. You obviously felt overwhelmed. While I hadn't expected you to come here the very day you returned, I'm certainly glad to see you both."

"I'm sorry," Tim said, not sure who he was really apologizing to or what exactly he was apologizing for.

"No reason to apologize. I'm flattered that you felt this was a safe enough place to express yourself."

"It was...going to happen somewhere," Tim said. "I just didn't want it to be... at home. In front of Tommy."

"I can understand that desire," Ducky said.

"I didn't... want to be doing this in front of _anyone_ , though. I just..." He managed to laugh a little. "I was trying to sit down on the bed. I missed. ...and then...I just couldn't get up again."

Ducky smiled and patted Tim on the shoulder.

"I also understand wanting to be alone when so much of what you've dealt with has been with attention, but Timothy, just like before, you can't always deal with these things alone and it's no shame to lean on someone else."

"I've already been doing that too much," Tim whispered, feeling anew the shame of how much he'd ignored Tony's struggles.

"No, you haven't, Tim," Tony said, speaking for the first time that Tim could understand him. "You've only been doing what I've forced you to do, and that's no good."

"Maybe you should just stop doing it," Tim said.

"We've already had this discussion, Tim. It's not going to happen. Just accept it."

Tim smiled a little.

"What was all this about?" Ducky asked.

"I took Tim over to talk to Gibbs," Tony said.

"With the benefit of hindsight, it was, perhaps, slightly premature, even if necessary."

"Maybe," Tony said.

"You think I needed it, too?" Tim asked Ducky.

"While I'm not certain of the timing, yes, I do," Ducky said. "If your hatred of him is simply a mindless reaction to trauma, it will not help. In fact, I would say that it would only hurt you in the long-term. If you still hate Jethro later on, that is certainly your prerogative, but, Timothy, you know that your state of mind is not healthy at the moment. Whether you think it's deserved or not, you are suffering and decisions made in the midst of psychological suffering are not generally considered well thought out."

Tim didn't like hearing Ducky say the same things other people had said...because he found it difficult to fight against Ducky's calm declarations.

"Now, how are you feeling, Timothy?"

"Not good."

"Are you feeling stable enough to go home, perhaps with Anthony or myself giving Delilah some warning?"

Tim thought about it, and he really wasn't sure. He felt wound up but exhausted at the same time. He was still angry, but he also wanted to cry. For the moment, he was relatively calm, but would that last?

"I don't know," he said, finally.

"Then, I'll give Delilah a call and see if she feels that your family would be better served by your immediate presence. You really should reconsider your therapy, Timothy. With this amount of emotional stress, you clearly need it."

"He will," Tony said. "We made a deal."

Tim looked at Tony for the first time.

"What deal?"

Tony smiled, although his eyes were dark and serious.

"I said that I'd talk to someone if you would."

"I never agreed to that," Tim said.

"You never said no, either."

"So?"

"So, if you didn't say no, then, you meant yes. And Delilah already made your appointment with Dr. Bourning. So..."

Tim couldn't think of a retort. Instead, he looked around the room and decided he'd had enough of kneeling on the floor.

"Can I get up now?" he asked.

"I don't know. Can you?" Tony asked.

Tim wasn't happy about being on the floor. It was as if he was so weak that he couldn't stand on his own two feet. He stood up, feeling a little light-headed, true, but he refused to show it. Ducky also stood up, albeit with some assistance. Then, he left Tony and Tim in the room while he called Delilah.

Tim didn't dare look at Tony again. He just went back to staring at the floor, running what had happened at Gibbs' place over and over in his head. There was satisfaction, yes, but there was also sadness. It had felt, when he had said good-bye, that he was saying good-bye to everything tied to Gibbs, everything that he had ever thought about Gibbs and being on his team was now gone.

In short, even when it came to Gibbs, his feelings were complicated and painful. Could nothing be easy for him? Could nothing really be black and white?

"Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry if it was too soon."

Tim let out a humorless laugh...at the floor.

"The way I feel right now, anytime would be too soon." He took a breath. "I meant what I said, Tony. I don't ever want to see him again and I don't really feel bad that Vance is forcing him out. I'm surprised, but I'm not sad."

"Well, I'd consider arguing with you, but I don't want my invitation rescinded."

That finally got Tim to look up.

"What invitation? I haven't invited you anywhere."

"I know. Delilah did," Tony said, smiling again.

"What?"

"She invited me to your place for Christmas. I don't want you hating me and deciding that I'm not welcome."

Tim felt stupid and slow.

"Delilah invited you? It's October!"

"Yeah. That's what I said. She said that you might forget or chicken out. She said you did last year."

Tim was surprised to feel embarrassed about that. He shrugged.

"Anyway, I don't want to have you mad enough at me that you kick me out, so..."

"I wouldn't do that," Tim whispered, staring at the floor again.

"The way you've been acting so far, Tim, I could see you getting that mad if I tried to defend Gibbs in any way."

"You'd defend him?" Tim asked, feeling angry again.

"See what I mean? But I think you like being mad at Gibbs because it's easier than... thinking of that other stuff."

Tim winced at the reminder, not that he needed it. It was always hovering in the background of everything.

"Would it have helped if Gibbs had apologized right when it happened?" Tony asked.

"I think so."

"Why?"

"Because, instead of leaving me to deal with it, he would have been there."

"So you wanted help."

"Yes! Is that so wrong?"

Tony smiled, but in a different way.

"No, Tim. It's not. That's what I've been telling you all along. It's _not_ wrong to want help. Why were you wanting help from Gibbs and yet trying to do it all yourself now?"

Tim opened his mouth to retort but realized that he couldn't.

"You stopped seeing the shrink. You wouldn't talk to Delilah. You wouldn't talk to me. You wouldn't do anything but sit there and wallow in it. If you knew you needed help from Gibbs, why wouldn't accept the help everyone else was trying to get you to take?"

"I...I shouldn't have wanted it."

"Yes, you should have! Man, Tim, this was really awful. It's the worst thing a cop has to face. It's messed up more people than you know. I've seen it happen before. Why do you think they require debriefings? It's because some of this stuff we have to do is really hard. You hate Gibbs so much? Stop acting like him!"

"What? I'm not acting like Gibbs!" Tim said, angry that Tony would say that he was even remotely like him.

"Yeah, you are! What do you think Gibbs would do if it had been him in there? He would have said nothing and then gone and brooded about it in his basement until he could pretend to be over it. You don't have a basement to brood in, but you're doing the same thing. The one advantage you have is that you're not as bad as Gibbs is. You have family and friends and occasionally you listen to us when we try to help you, but you make it really hard."

For some reason, that hurt.

"That's not fair," Tim said. "This isn't the same thing, and you don't know what Gibbs would have done. And if it's so hard, you don't have..."

"Tim, stop it," Tony said, showing more than a little irritation. "I don't want to hear you tell me that I don't have to help you. I know that. I know how you feel. I know that you hate yourself at least as much as you hate Gibbs right now. Maybe more. I know all that, but I will not give up on you. Delilah will not give up on you. Tommy won't, even if he doesn't understand what's going on. He's going to keep coming to you, trying to love you because you're his dad. Now, are you ready to stop being like Gibbs and get your life back in order?"

The door opened and Ducky leaned in.

"Delilah says that she'd like you to come home, Timothy. Are you ready?" he asked, guilelessly, as if he had no idea he was saying the exact same thing Tony had just said.

Tim looked back and forth between Tony and Ducky, again feeling that urge to run away from all the hard things in his life right now. He just wanted to get away from the decisions, the pain, the anger, all of the extremes. If it wasn't for the fact that he also felt like an idiot for even entertaining the thought that he could physically run from those things, he might try it.

To his surprise, Ducky walked over to him, took him by the shoulders and smiled.

"I understand that everything feels like too much for you to manage, Timothy, but you can take the steps that will alleviate that feeling. You don't have to think that this is all you have to look forward to. You can see a day, not too far off, where you'll be able to enjoy your life again. But it takes a step forward, no matter how small it might be."

"Okay," Tim said, feeling more resigned to it than anything else.

"Good. Anthony, why don't you take him home and then come on back and chat with me for a little while."

"Uh...sure, Ducky," Tony said.

"Go forth, then," Ducky said.

Tim smiled a little at that and nodded.

He and Tony walked out of the house and got into Tony's car. Finally, Tony started heading home. It was silent most of the way, but when they neared Tim's home, Tony broke the silence.

"So..." Tony said.

"So what?" Tim asked.

"Am I still invited for Christmas?"

Tim laughed a little.

"I suppose so. Delilah invited you, not me. She'll have to make the final decision."

"Ha. Devious. Well, not the best end to a road trip that we've had, but we can do it again later."

He pulled up to the house, then, and Tim couldn't help feeling that Tony was unlikely to _ever_ want another road trip with someone like Tim. The idea was ludicrous. Tim wouldn't want to go on a road trip with himself, let alone force someone else to suffer with him.

"Nice of you to say, Tony," Tim said, "but I won't hold you to it."

Then, he got out of the car, bag in hand and headed for the door. Tony followed along behind. The door opened before he got there and Tim had both a smile and a pang as Tommy ran out, shouting at him.

"Daddy! Daddy!" he cried.

The urge to run away was still there, but Tim could no more run away from his son than he could fly. Instead, he dropped his bag on the sidewalk and ran to meet Tommy. He picked him up and started crying, yet again.

"Oh, Tommy," he whispered. "I missed you so much."

"Daddy, sad?" Tommy asked.

"Yeah, but I feel better just seeing you."

Tommy gave him a tight hug.

"Love you, Daddy! Give you a hug!"

"I love you, too, Tommy," Tim said. Then, he looked back to get his bag and saw Tony pick it up.

"I've got it, Tim. Go say hello to your wife."

Tim walked up the walk to where Delilah was sitting, waiting for him. He set Tommy down and leaned over to hug her. Delilah hugged him as tightly as Tommy had.

"This is better than it was, Tim," Delilah said softly. "I can tell you don't think so, but it is. And it will be even better if you let it be."

"I can't," Tim whispered.

"I know. That's why I'm going to make you. I'm not going to lose you, Tim. Got that? I'm not."

Tim just hugged her.

Then, he remembered that Tony would still be standing there. He stood and turned around.

Tony held out his bag.

"Okay. Looks like things are...basically set. You going to hold up your end of our deal?"

Tim glanced down at Delilah.

"I don't think I have any choice."

"You do, but you should make the right one, and you know which is the right one."

"Do you want to come in, Tony?" Delilah asked.

"Nah. Ducky said he wanted to visit, and I've still got to get back to Norfolk before they decide that I've outlived my usefulness. I'll check back on the weekend, okay?"

"Thank you," Delilah said, fervently. "Tommy, tell Tony good-bye."

Tommy ran over and hugged Tony's legs.

"Bye, Tony!" he said.

Tim watched as Tony gave Tommy a hug. Then, Tommy ran back and hugged Tim's legs again.

"Tony?" he said.

Tony just smiled.

"I'll check on you later, Tim. But I'm going to ask Delilah if you went to your appointment tomorrow, and you'd better hold up to your end of the deal."

Then, Tony set Tim's bag down on the ground and walked back to his car. Tim watched him leave, feeling somehow abandoned, even though he knew that was a stupid feeling and he wasn't being abandoned and Delilah was there and Tony needed time off. But that feeling was still there.

Then, he felt Delilah's calloused hand take his.

"Tim, come inside, all right?"

He took a breath and nodded.

"Okay."

He picked up his bag and went inside with his family.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Tony pulled up at Ducky's place again and headed for the door. The door opened before he got there. Ducky must have been watching for him.

"Ah, you did come back quickly, Anthony," Ducky said, looking happy to see him.

Actually, Tony was surprised at how nice it felt just to have someone look happy he was there. The last couple of weeks, Tim had needed him around, had even _wanted_ him around at times, but he'd never really looked happy. Tony didn't blame him for that. He was dealing with some serious stuff, but it was hard being around someone who was consistently miserable.

"Delilah took over, and Tommy was thrilled to see him," Tony said. "So I'm off duty."

"Good. Well, come inside and have a chat."

"Okay."

Tony wasn't sure what Ducky wanted to talk about, but he was willing to follow him into the house. Anything devoid of emotional excess was an improvement over the last week and a half.

They walked into the kitchen.

"Have a seat, Anthony. Are you hungry?"

"Not really."

"Well, I'm sure you haven't had a real meal in a long time."

"We ate really well in San Francisco," Tony said. "And we always had breakfast in the hotels...or almost always."

Ducky smiled. "Regardless, you need to have an evening meal. So whether you think you need it or not, you should have a meal. How do you feel about stroganoff?"

He started to pulled some dishes out of the cupboards.

"Ducky, I still have to get back to Norfolk," Tony said. "The road trip isn't quite over for me."

"I think you should stay here for a day or two rather than push on to Norfolk."

"Why?" Tony asked.

"Because you need some time to relax with someone to watch out for you, rather than pushing yourself to watch out for someone else. I won't deny that Timothy benefitted from your care, but you need to set that aside and let yourself be taken care of, too. I don't doubt that you're being honest about simply needing time, but if you need some recommendations..."

Ducky put some meat in a pot and began to cook it.

"Recommendations? For what?" Tony asked.

"I believe you had a deal with Timothy that he would see his therapist and you would do the same."

"Oh. Right."

"I think you could use that help, not to the same extent as Timothy needs it, but I can see that you've been worn down, not just by the last couple of weeks."

"I'll be okay, Ducky."

Ducky paused in his preparations and turned to Tony. He set down the spoon and reached out to squeeze Tony's shoulder.

"Yes, you will. As Timothy will be, but the more you accept help, the easier it will be to be okay."

Then, he turned back to the cooking meat.

"Besides, I seem to recall that you said you'd made a deal. In order to be honest, you will have to speak to someone in any case, and not just me. I can give you some recommendations if you'd like. In fact, while you're staying here, you could meet with someone to get started."

Tony smiled at Ducky's back. How had Ducky known that he had planned on counting talking to Ducky as talking to someone?

"You're determined, Ducky."

"Very. Do you have to be back at work?"

"No. Not until next week. I have the weekend."

"Then, you have the time."

"All right. I'll do it. And I'll stay with you for a couple of days."

"Good decision."

Tony just smiled, but then, inexorably, he went back to Tim's situation. Ducky was getting out some rice.

"How big a mistake do you think it was to take Tim to talk to Gibbs? I mean, he really didn't want to, but I made him."

Ducky turned around again, and his expression was sympathetic.

"I think that you were right that he needed it, but I think you were too eager to get him there. It would have been better for him to go home and deal with that, first. Ease back into his life before addressing a source of such extreme emotion as we witnessed. Why did you push it so much, Anthony?"

"I don't know," Tony said. "I really thought it would help."

"And it would. It will have helped," Ducky said. "A little too soon, but even so, it will help Timothy in the long run. But why? Why do it right when you got back to D.C.?"

Tony shrugged and took a page from Tim's book by looking at the table rather than at Ducky. He remembered the expression on Tim's face when they first went into Gibbs' house and, strangely, he also remembered that moment when Tim had been almost playful at the Salt Flats. Tim had actually lightened up for a moment, but two days later, Tony had dragged him back down by having him talk to Gibbs.

Then, Ducky sat down across from Tony.

"Why, Anthony?"

"Because I wanted to help both of them," Tony said, finally. He looked at Ducky. "I thought it would help Gibbs if he actually talked to Tim, and they both talked about what had happened. I can't hate Gibbs the way Tim does."

"That's not surprising. This didn't happen to you. While you would definitely feel for Timothy's situation, you didn't experience it. In addition, you have a very long history with Jethro."

"So does Tim."

"Not in the same way. Timothy's relationship with Jethro has been much more that of a supervisor and subordinate, a mentor and student, not a friendship. Not completely, of course, but Timothy is much more reserved than you, and because Jethro is also quite reticent about making personal connections, for them, there was no initiative taken, whereas you and Abigail and even myself are all much more outgoing, much more persuasive...and unwilling to accept that reticence. The connection or friendship we have with Jethro is because of what _we_ have done, not what Jethro has done. It will be much more difficult for _you_ to give up on Jethro than it is for Timothy."

"I didn't feel like Tim found it easy."

"No. I'm not saying it was. It would take something like this to sever that connection, but I think that even with this, you would still be reluctant to give up on Jethro completely. Thus, it makes sense that you want to help both of them."

"I think that Tim was right. Gibbs really messed things up."

"Yes, from what I've been told, from what Jethro told me, I agree. So does he. With the benefit of distance, he knows that he was wrong and he regrets what happened, not just to Allison Jenkins, but also to Timothy."

"Yeah, I could see it. I don't think Tim could."

"If he could, he willfully ignored it, as is his right. He probably feels that it's easy to be sorry after the fact, and to a certain extent, it's true. It's much easier to look back and acknowledge a mistake than it is to admit it in the moment. You may find that Timothy will mellow a bit with time and as he learns to accept the horror he witnessed, but it will be slow in coming, if it happens at all. It will not be helped by the fact that Jethro is so unwilling to take the initiative in having the difficult discussions. It's easier to just let things, and people, go than to pursue them."

"Why is he resigning?" Tony asked, embarrassed that he almost sounded plaintive.

"Vance gave him the ultimatum, but it didn't originate with him. It originated higher up the chain from people who saw the results and insisted that someone be punished. It couldn't be Timothy, the one who actually witnessed the death, did not give the orders and was clearly deeply affected. But there weren't many other options and Jethro's actions made him an easy target. He was in the wrong. He violated the chain of command. His choices led to an innocent woman being brutally murdered."

"Why didn't he fight it? He could have," Tony said.

"I'll admit that I convinced him not to."

"Why?" Tony asked, a little annoyed. "Why would you tell him to just roll over and accept it?"

"In the first place, because I think that Jethro really did go too far over the line. He has stepped over it many times in the past, but this was not just a step. It was a leap, and not only was it over the line, it was a betrayal. His casual disregard for the rules finally led to tragedy, and I knew that, even if he was successful in avoiding punishment, he would never be happy knowing what he had done. In the second place, because I felt that it would be easier for Timothy if he wasn't placed in a situation where he had to decide between defending the man he now hates and attacking the man he used to admire. ...and in the third place, because he was already considering retiring. It wouldn't have been under these circumstances, but Jethro had been feeling that it was time to leave for quite some time, but he had been putting it off. There was little to be gained by staying and much to gain by leaving."

"What does he gain?" Tony asked. "NCIS has been his whole life."

"Yes, and that is a tragedy in and of itself. To have one's work be all that defines one is not a good thing. It is not healthy. Jethro is young enough still to regain some identity beyond NCIS. He also retains his self-respect because he accepts punishment for what he did, and he has the chance to provide some protection for the man he betrayed, albeit unwittingly."

"Did you actually say all that to him?" Tony asked.

Ducky smiled. "No. Actually, I said much more, but that is the essence, and in the end, he agreed with me."

"Did he really?"

Ducky chuckled. "Yes. I believe he did. It doesn't necessarily fix anything, but it's a start and only time will tell if Jethro uses that start to achieve anything."

Ducky stood and walked back to the stove.

"Regardless, while I believe that Timothy's confrontation came too soon, I don't believe that you did any permanent damage. It just led to some overload, and perhaps that overload couldn't have been avoided in any case. It's possible that Timothy was simply needing an outlet and the confrontation gave him that."

He began to fill a plate with rice and some kind of sauce. After a moment, he turned back and handed the full plate to Tony.

"Here. That is for you."

"Man, Ducky. How much do you think I need?"

"I've never known you to eat delicately, Anthony," Ducky said. "But I'd wager that it's been a while since you ate a real meal today."

"Yeah."

"So you _are_ hungry and this should suffice. It likely isn't authentic, but I enjoy the flavor."

Ducky served himself and then sat down.

"Please, dig in, and I hope you enjoy it."

"It looks great, Ducky, and it's not junk food. That's a big step up."

"That it is."

"So...you said you'd been traveling. Where did you go?" Tony asked, wanting to keep the conversation simple while eating. Negative topics simply ruined a meal without really having much in the way of positive solutions.

Thankfully, Ducky didn't seem to feel any differently.

"I met an old friend and we went up to the Orkney Islands, off the north coast of Scotland. It had been many years since I got up to that area and it was wonderful to see it again."

As they ate, Ducky elaborated on all the things he'd seen on his vacation. Tony enjoyed hearing about it. It was a nice escape from everything that had been going on.

He helped Ducky clean up after dinner, and then, he waited for what he was sure would come next.

"You said you'd had a hard case yourself, Anthony. What was it?" Ducky asked.

 _Just like I thought,_ Tony thought to himself.

"It was a shooting. A mass shooting."

"Oh," Ducky said with sudden understanding. "I did hear about that. That was your case?"

"Yeah. We tracked Milan down, but he killed himself before we could arrest him and...and we have no idea why he did it. Nothing. There's nothing in his life to tell us. Nothing in the autopsy. Nothing."

They walked into the living room and Tony sat down. He leaned forward. He'd said this to Tim, but saying to Ducky was more therapeutic, simply because Ducky could give it more attention.

"It bothers me that we can't figure out what made him snap like that. It bothers me that he killed himself while I was watching and made me have to be bothered by that instead of what he did! It was like he just wanted to have one last chance to kill someone, this time, with an audience. And it really bugged me. I was kind of mad about it."

"It makes sense to me. You've been denied the kind of closure that is the only comfort you can take from that kind of situation: understanding. There's no chance of finding something?"

"No. Unless some random person pops up and says that Milan ranted to him about why he was going to mow people down. We just don't have anything. It doesn't stop the conspiracy theorists from coming out of the woodwork, but no _real_ answers."

"I'm sorry for that, Anthony."

"Me, too. I just wish that there was hope of something, but there's not. Just have to move on."

"Which is what you're struggling with."

"Yeah."

"Then, I suggest that you take your remaining days of vacation and use them wisely. I understand if you want to check on Timothy, but I think you should leave him in Delilah's capable hands for now."

"You think I wouldn't?" Tony asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ducky chuckled. "Absolutely not. It's sometimes difficult to get you serious about things, Anthony, but once you've done it, you don't go back on it, and you can take your responsibility a bit too far. Timothy is in very good hands. Unless you are specifically asked, you should leave it that way. Not that you abandon him, but that you let him begin to recover and let yourself begin to recover. Nothing is going to be solved in a moment. It will take time."

"That much I do know, Ducky," Tony said. "I can feel it."

"Perhaps a good night's sleep is in order."

"That would be amazing, Duck."

"Then, why don't you try it?"

Tony stood up and stretched.

"Not very subtle, you know."

Ducky smiled and stood as well.

"I wasn't trying to be subtle. I was trying to tell you to rest, secure in the knowledge that you've done what you can for Timothy."

"Have I?" Tony asked.

"Yes," Ducky said, firmly. "Now, it's time to take care of yourself. Good night, Anthony."

Tony took a breath and tried to set aside the omnipresent worry about Tim.

"Good night, Ducky."

Tony showered and then got into bed, glad for the reprieve.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Tony had noted the similarities and differences between this road trip and the first one many times, but one major difference came in the aftermath. Unlike the first one, after the end of the trip, he didn't see much of Tim for a few weeks. Part of it was simple proximity. While Tony had stayed with Ducky for a couple of days and had checked on Tim like he had promised, after that, he had gone back to Norfolk and he had almost no personal days left for the year, meaning not much time available to drive to D.C. He had called a few times, but Tim was apparently not really happy about talking on the phone and Tony was as likely to talk to Delilah as he was to talk to Tim. Delilah always said that Tim was doing better, but that he was still struggling. He'd gone back to work in a limited fashion, but he was making slow, albeit steady progress.

Tony could make that argument that it was a matter of time and proximity, but really, part of it was Tony's own need for distance. He had pushed both himself and Tim pretty hard and the crash afterward had been draining. Part of Tony felt guilty for deliberately avoiding Tim when he was still recovering, but most of him was simply relieved that he had some normalcy during his own recovery time. And it was so much easier. Tim hadn't pushed for it, either. Once or twice, Tony had thought about what Ducky had said about the trust Tim had given him and Tim's reluctance in reaching out for friendship. It made Tony think that maybe this would be the end of the close friendship they'd had. Maybe it was just too extreme to overcome. They wouldn't be the first it happened to.

...but it was sad, and Tony kept thinking about whether or not he should just bite the bullet and see if Tim was really okay.

...but he kept putting it off.

Now, he was sitting at his desk, at the beginning of December, wondering what would be best.

"Tony, you're looking pensive again."

Tony looked up and smiled.

"Hey, Chaz," he said. "I'm not pensive. Just thinking. What's up?"

Chaz sat down on Tony's desk. "You've been pretty mum about your road trip. I haven't been able to get to you to say anything at all and that's hurting my image! It's been weeks since you came back to work!"

"I don't want to be the subject of gossip, this time."

" _This_ time? You like it other times?"

"Of course," Tony said, grinning. "Being interesting enough that people want to talk about me? That's great!"

"Ha. Very funny. You sent your team out to do some leg work. No one's here to listen in. What happened?"

"You saw the press conference?" Tony asked.

"Yeah. Reading between the lines, it sounds like things were really bad."

"Worse than what you could read."

"What was it?"

"Tim was there when the admiral's wife was killed. He went into the house, confronted the guy who had her, tried to talk him down and he gunned her down while she was begging Tim to save her."

Chaz' expression was more than sympathetic. It was actually a little shocked.

"That's way worse than I would have guessed. So...how messed up was he?"

"As messed up as you can get. He's apparently doing better."

"Apparently?"

"I...haven't really talked to him much since we got back. I was here. He was in D.C., having lots of therapy. And...you were probably right."

"What was that?" Chaz asked, cupping his hand around his ear.

"You were right. It was too much for me to deal with on my own. It was really hard. Honestly, it was worse than the first time we went on a road trip when he was having other problems. I was afraid for him, and when we got back, it was a relief to get away. I haven't been able to...face it all again."

"Are you going to?"

"It would be too bad if I didn't. I did get invited for Christmas, but I haven't heard anything about that since."

"But you haven't done anything about it, either."

"Nope."

"What are you going to do?"

"Don't know yet," Tony said, smiling a little.

"Hence, your pensiveness," Chaz said.

"Yeah. Hence. But I wasn't pensive. Just thinking."

"Yeah, right. I think you need some lunch."

Tony looked up at Chaz, furrowing his brow.

"Since when have you taken on the role of being my mother?"

"Since you needed it. Go on, Tony. You know that your guys won't be back for another hour. Take a lunch."

"You coming with me?"

Chaz grinned. "Nope. _I've_ got work to do."

"Yeah. I'm sure you do. Spreading gossip."

"Not this. Not if you don't want it to be."

Tony stood up.

"Thanks, Chaz."

"You're welcome."

Tony checked his watch, and Chaz was right. His team wouldn't be back for at least an hour. He was caught up on his paperwork and he could grab some lunch. He drove to a fast food place and got something to go. Then, he drove back to Norfolk and went to the Iowa Memorial on the base. It was chilly, but no snow yet. He sat and ate his lunch, enjoying the fresh air (or at least the open air). After a while, he began to think about getting back to work. He couldn't just sit out here forever and it was really too cold for that anyway.

Back to work. He sat up and then, he heard a voice.

"Hey, Tony."

He spun around and, sure enough, there was Tim, looking a little uncomfortable.

"Tim...what are you doing here?" Tony asked.

"Chaz said you were out here. I went to your office, first."

"You know Chaz?"

Tim actually smiled. "How do you think I knew about the job opening here?"

"Oh, really? Chaz never mentioned that."

"He's good at not talking about some things," Tim said. "How's it going for you?"

The question was sincere, but it sounded so awkward, like it was coming from a distant acquaintance rather than a close friend. Tony almost winced.

"Pretty good. I'm still seeing a shrink, but only to touch base. He thinks that the regular sessions can stop soon. You?"

Tim's smile was not quite as happy as Tony would wish it was.

"Not that far along." And that was all he said.

It still felt distant and cold and Tony thought that maybe his worst fear had come to pass: what had happened had broken their friendship.

"I'm sorry," Tony said.

"Not your fault," Tim said. "I'd be worse off if you hadn't been there."

"So...what brings you here?" Tony asked again, noting that Tim had managed to avoid answering his question. He really was pretty good at dodging things when he wanted to.

"I wanted to see how you're doing," Tim said.

Tony smiled. "You could have called. I do have a phone."

"I know."

Awkward silence fell.

"Uh...Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you really here? I mean, don't get me wrong. This is thrilling and all, but it's the middle of the work day. I thought you were back at work."

"I am. Sort of. Director Vance is having me..." Then, he stopped. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Tony asked, confused.

"I know the reason you've stayed away is because all this crap of mine has been too much to deal with. When I decided to come, I told myself I wasn't going to say anything in detail. I was just going to be...to the point."

"Tim, I asked. If I didn't want to know, I wouldn't have asked," Tony said.

"Yes, you would. You'd feel like you _had_ to ask," Tim said. "And I put way too much on you during the road trip. It was probably the worst two weeks of your life."

"That's more than a little extreme, Tim," Tony said.

Tim smiled slightly. "But I noticed that you're not denying it."

"It wasn't fun, but it was necessary."

"For me, it was necessary, not for you. You would have been better off not doing it."

"But _you_ wouldn't have been," Tony said. "It's not all about me."

"No, it was all about _me_ and it shouldn't have been," Tim said. "And it sucks that you did that to yourself again. For me."

"I wanted to," Tony said. "Tim, you're my friend, and you made me family. That's important. You do things for family."

"But you shouldn't have done that for me."

"Why not? You going to say that you didn't deserve it again? Because I'm not interested in hearing it."

"No," Tim said, shaking his head. " _You_ didn't deserve to go through that."

"If I didn't, who would have?" Tony asked. "Really, Tim. Who else could have got through to you?"

"If I wasn't being so stupid, it wouldn't have been a question that needed to be answered. If I had just accepted help at the beginning of it all," Tim said.

Tony could see that Tim was much improved from the last time he'd seen him, but at the same time, he was still shaky. His self-esteem had really taken a hit, in addition to everything else, and he wasn't out of that yet.

"Well, you weren't thinking clearly. That can happen to anyone. ...and I just noticed that you avoided answering my first question for the _third_ time. And you're still good at it. No more distractions, Tim. Why are you here? Why did you drive the four hours to Norfolk? It wasn't to ask me how I was because you could have done that over the phone."

Tim looked embarrassed and he stared at the ground for a few seconds. This time, Tony let him. Whatever Tim had to say seemed to be difficult.

Finally, he looked up and Tony saw the blank stare again. Tim wasn't sure about letting Tony see how he felt.

"Okay. You're going to want to interrupt, but I need to get through this, so even though you want to, please let me get it out."

"Okay. I'll try to keep my mouth shut."

"Thanks." Tim took another deep breath and let it out. "So...you hated dealing with me on the road trip. Don't deny it. You did. I don't blame you. I hated dealing with me, too. I'm still working on that. You were glad to get away from me when we got back here. You were probably disappointed with how talking with Gibbs ended up. You were really stressed out by everything. I mean, you even thought that I might be suicidal. I wasn't, but you thought I might be. When you got back and dropped me off at home...I felt like you were abandoning me."

Tony opened his mouth to speak and then stopped himself at the last second. He'd promised to let Tim get through it all, and Tim wasn't really looking at him again.

"I knew you weren't. Delilah was there. Tommy was there. I wasn't alone, but I felt like it, and in my head it became that you just wanted to get away from me, that you were so sick of me that you were relieved it was finally over."

Tony suppressed a wince. To some degree, that much was true.

"Most of my therapy has been about Allison Jenkins and a little bit about Gibbs. No big surprise there. But Dr. Bourning has been pushing me to do some hard things that aren't really about that, stuff that's related to the first time. I was trying not to talk to you because I wanted to let you be free of me and my problems. Delilah told me I was being stupid, but I couldn't accept it. So I had her talk to you to let you just do your duty in checking on me without having to actually talk to me or pretend."

Tony was almost literally biting his tongue to keep himself from speaking, from denying what Tim was saying.

"But the thing is, Tony... I've missed you. Once I could think of anything besides myself, I missed having you there, being friends with me. So I came out here to ask if you still want to be friends. If you don't, I understand. I've been a terrible friend the last couple of months. Director Vance is easing me back into full-time work. He said that this was hard enough that I should be careful coming back. In fact, at first, I wasn't sure I ever would want to, and I told him that. He said he understood and that we'd take it slow. So today was one of the days he had me stay home. Normally, I've been home with Tommy. Today, I took him to the sitter's so I could come out here. I'm really sorry for how the road trip went. It was miserable. It was hard. It was way more depressing than the first time, and I wish I could go back and say no about going because, even though it helped me, it _really_ didn't help you. It made things worse for you. I wish I could not have done it. But I can't. I can't take that back, and I can't fix things like I wish I could. Like I always wish I could. Dr. Bourning asked me about all this and I said that I was letting you have your space, and he challenged me on that. Was that what I was really doing? And I don't know."

Tim fell silent and stared over Tony's shoulder, still showing almost nothing. Tony realized that Tim honestly had no idea if Tony still wanted to be friends. He really was thinking that this had ruined everything, no, that _he_ had ruined everything.

...that one more thing had been killed by the terrible end to the case.

...and Tony also realized that, if he did nothing, it would be like him watching Milan kill himself. Tim would accept it because Tim felt that he was the guilty party and so anything that Tony decided was the right decision, even if that decision was that they couldn't really be close friends any longer. Tim would regret it, but he wouldn't say anything against Tony's decision. The friendship would just end.

Only this time, unlike with Milan, he could stop the killing by doing something. So...did he want to? Did he want this friendship that really had started because of a traumatic event to end on the same tragic terms? Or could this just be another step up? Something they could both work on and be better friends than they had been before. Tim wasn't the happy-go-lucky guy that Tony often pretended to be. Tim couldn't pretend like that. Tony didn't expect him to. Tim would also be recovering from this latest psychological assault for a long time, and it would probably be hard going. Tony could see it. This wouldn't be solved quickly, but things _were_ getting better. Tim himself seemed more calm, more stable, even if still more than a little depressed.

The silence lengthened and Tony ventured to speak.

"Uh...Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I talk now?"

Tim looked back at him and smiled.

"Yeah."

"Okay, good. First of all, I'm sorry."

Instant rejection in Tim's eyes. Tony had known it was coming.

"I..."

"No, Tim. You had your say. Let me have mine. No fair you getting to do all the talking."

Tim subsided, but he was clearly ready to instantly reject the idea that Tony had anything to apologize for.

"First, I'm sorry that I've avoided you for the last few weeks. Yes, we both know that's what I was doing. Even when I called, I didn't insist that Delilah make you talk to me. I did need the time, but I could have just come out and said that. So, I'm sorry that I didn't. Also, I'm really sorry that I pushed you to talk to Gibbs before you were ready. I was trying to _fix_ things because, and I don't know how mad you'll be about this, because I can't hate Gibbs like you do. I agree that you were right and he was really wrong, but I can't hate him and I was trying to fix things for both of you at the same time, but I didn't do that. I made it harder for you, at least in the short term and things were already hard enough."

Tony paused and he saw Tim getting ready to protest again, although there was no angry outburst. He smiled.

"I'm not done yet. Now, I'll tell you what I'm _not_ sorry about. I'm _not_ sorry that I took you on the road trip. Yes, it was really hard to deal with it. It was hard to deal with _you_ , but I knew that going in, and if it helped you, then, I'm not a bit sorry that I did it. Second, I'm not sorry that Delilah called me and asked me to do it. I'm not sorry that I've had you as a friend. We started out barely tolerating each other and because of the whole Dearing thing we got to be friends, and I'm glad. And most importantly, I'm _not_ sorry that you're here now. Since we're both being embarrassingly honest here, you really scared me on that trip. You were so far down the hole, I wasn't sure I'd be able to get you to even acknowledge that you could look up, let alone get out. So having you standing here now, seeming pretty okay, is great and I'm not sorry about it."

"I'm...mostly not, too," Tim said.

"And so, to answer your question, I'm not willing to give up on the friendship we have, just because of a major pothole in the road."

"Sinkhole," Tim said, softly.

Tony smiled. "Yeah. Probably. But I'm not willing to give it up, no matter how hard it's been."

"But I really suck as a friend, Tony."

"No, you don't. Sure, you weren't at your best during this last road trip, but that's an aberration and there's a good reason for it."

"But I'm not even close to recovered yet and who knows how long that will take."

"I know. That's okay."

"I still hate Gibbs."

"I know. That's okay, too."

Tim was obviously trying to think of another objection. Tony understood why. Tim didn't want Tony to think of something that was a deal breaker and then change his mind.

"Tim, you won't change my mind. I've made my decision. You have no choice but to be my friend."

Even Tim could laugh at the way Tony phrased it.

"Now, it's really not all that warm out here and my team will be back soon. So let's get out of here and indoors. Do you still have to drive back today?"

"Yeah."

"Long drive."

"I'm used to it," Tim said, smiling.

They started walking back toward the cars.

"The most important question has yet to be answered, Probie."

"What's that?"

"Am I still invited for Christmas?"

"If you still want to come," Tim said.

"Absolutely! I'll be there with bells on. I'm still trying to figure out the most annoying present possible that I can give to Tommy. You guys have it way too easy with him. A cute, sweet kid who's already ahead of the curve and obedient to boot? Not fair at all."

"You don't see him when he throws a tantrum because I won't let him have an extra tortilla."

"Nope. That's the benefit of being the beloved uncle."

They reached the cars and Tim stopped Tony one last time.

"Are you sure that-?"

"Yes, Tim. I'm sure. Stop asking. And, hey, give me a call when you get back home."

For almost the first time, Tim's smile seemed completely normal.

"Yes, mother."

"I've seen you drive, Tim. I know what you're like," Tony said.

They both heard the double meaning in that. Then, suddenly, Tim leaned forward and gave Tony a hug.

"Thanks, Tony. For everything."

"You're welcome, Tim."

Then, Tim got into his car and drove off. Tony got into his car, amazed at how much better he felt about things. Sure, it would be hard with Tim still trying to recover, but he _would_ recover and Tony would still be part of the family helping him make it.

Now, there was one last thing he had to do before he got back to work.

He drove back to the office and tracked down Chaz who was, ostensibly, hard at work.

"How was lunch?" Chaz asked, casually.

"Tim called you, didn't he," Tony said. "That's why you were asking me about the road trip and told me to go and get lunch."

Chaz looked up, the picture of innocence.

"What makes you say that?"

"It's too much of a coincidence that you'd be asking me about it on the very same day that Tim decided to drive down here to talk to me. And he told me that he knew you."

Chaz grinned. "Not as well as I know you, but yeah, I know Tim."

"You never said anything."

"You never asked."

"Tim called you."

"Yeah, he did. Early this morning. He was making sure that you were recovered enough to deal with seeing him."

"And you said I was."

"Do you honestly think Tim would have risked coming if I'd said no?"

Tony had to acknowledge that one. Tim would never do it if he was told it wasn't a good idea.

"And I sent you off to get lunch because you never come back here to eat it unless you need to be working. You always go over to the memorial to eat, and I figured that whatever Tim had to say to you would be easier if it was private, not in the building where _someone_ would hear about it."

"Like you?" Tony asked, pointedly.

"Yep. Like me. I've got ears everywhere, Tony."

"I wouldn't be surprised if you meant that literally."

The door opened and Tony's team came back.

"Hey, Boss. We've got some stuff for processing and Wilkes talked to the wife. Said she seems shifty, but her alibi checks out so far."

Tony smiled at Chaz.

"Thanks," he said.

"Anytime."

"I'm sure of that," Tony said.

Then, he walked over to his team.

"Have you checked for bank accounts?" Tony asked. "Maybe she's hiding some money that her husband doesn't know about."

"I was going to see if we could get an authorization for that," Wilkes said.

"Do it."

As he coordinated the next steps, Tony's mind was half on his conversation with Tim.

At least he now knew for sure that he had plans for Christmas.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

A huge snowstorm had hit D.C. Roads were closed all over the district and the surrounding Metro area. Even if it hadn't been Christmas, schools would have been closed. Luckily, the power had stayed on. No ice storms had followed the snow and, while a few isolated pockets had lost power for a few hours, most people were just stuck at home on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.

However, for those who were traveling, it was miserable. Many flights were cancelled. Getting around was difficult and even the snowplows were having trouble keeping up.

Tony had planned on coming to D.C. on Christmas Eve, but he hadn't made it. Tim assumed that he'd just have to wait until the roads were clear enough to drive on safely. He had told Tony that he shouldn't risk trying to drive on the snowy roads. Tony had said he'd get there, and that Tim shouldn't worry.

That was asking a bit much. Tim kept looking out the window on Christmas morning, knowing that, if Tony made it, it would be obvious. Tony didn't make subtle entrances.

Delilah rolled over beside him.

"Tim, he'll be okay."

Tim looked at her and managed to smile. He still had bad times and he still met with his therapist frequently. He was almost back to full time at work, but still taking things slow.

And he still worried more than he should.

"I know that."

"Good. We can wait to open presents until he gets here. Tommy doesn't really understand all this yet anyway. He just knows it's fun."

"Yeah."

Tim looked out the window again.

Delilah took his hand and started to pull him away from the window.

"So come and have fun with Tommy, Tim. It's going to be fine."

Tim looked out the window once more. All he could see was snow. Then, he took a breath and smiled.

"Okay."

He allowed himself to be pulled over to where Tommy was playing with some brightly colored balls that Sarah had sent.

"Tommy, throw the ball to me," Tim said.

Instantly, he had a ball flying at his face. Luckily, he caught it. He laughed and tossed it gently back. Tommy almost caught it.

"Close, Tommy. You can do it," Tim said.

Tommy laughed and ran to pick up the ball. He got it in his hands and then threw it at Tim's face again.

"I'm beginning to think that you're doing this on purpose, Tommy," Tim said.

Tommy laughed again as Tim tossed it to him again. It fell between his hands to the floor.

"Try again, Tommy," Tim said. "Hold out your hands."

Tommy held out his hands.

"Okay. Catch it!"

Tim gently tossed it, and Tommy caught it.

"Tommy! You caught the ball! Good job!" Tim said, more surprised than he let on. He crawled over to Tommy and picked him up and hugged him. "Excellent!"

"Yea!" Tommy said.

Then, there was a pounding on the front door.

"Hey, McGee! Let me in before I'm buried in snow!"

Tim jumped and turned, still with Tommy in his arms. He smiled and got to his feet.

"Guess who's here, Tommy!"

"Tony!" Tommy said, having heard his voice.

"That's right! Let's get him inside."

Tim opened the door and saw Tony standing on the stoop, arms full of a bag and some packages.

"Tim, take these."

"Arms are full, Tony," Tim said.

"Hey, Tommy!" Tony said. "Put him down, then, Tim. He can walk."

Tim put Tommy down and then staggered as Tony pushed all his stuff into Tim's arms. Tony turned back toward the road and waved.

"Thanks, guys!" he shouted. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas!" came the faint reply.

Tim looked over Tony's packages and over Tony's shoulder and saw three Navy vehicles pulling away from the curb.

"What in the world?"

Tony gently nudged Tim backward until he could come inside and close the door.

"I hope you can give me a ride back to Norfolk, Tim. I don't think I can finagle another U.S. Navy ride."

"What?"

"Here. I'll take some of that back."

Tony grabbed the wrapped packages, leaving his bag in Tim's hands. Then, he looked down and saw Tommy hugging his legs.

"Hey, Tommy. Merry Christmas!"

"Tony! Tony!"

"Just give me a second, okay?"

"Let go of him, Tommy," Tim said.

With one free hand, Tim leaned over and picked Tommy up and then deposited him on Delilah's lap where he started squirming.

"Okay. Where do the presents go?" Tony asked.

"The tree's over there," Tim said, pointing to the living room.

"Excellent. You waited for me."

"Well, mostly. We let Tommy unwrap a present last night."

"I'll forgive you," Tony said and set his presents down with the others.

"How did you get here?" Tim asked. "I thought all the roads were closed."

"They were, but I work on a naval base and there was a convoy coming to Anacostia today. I managed to convince them to drop me off in Silver Spring. It was smooth sailing all the way in. Just enough plowing that they had no trouble."

"With all that effort, I hope it's not disappointing here, Tony," Delilah said, smiling. "It's going to be a very quiet Christmas...well, with the exception of Tommy who is almost never quiet."

"Quiet sounds great," Tony said. "As long as you don't mind me hanging out here for a few days until the roads open up again."

"That's not a problem at all. Have you eaten?"

"I wouldn't mind a little bit of breakfast, if you've got some cereal or toast or something," Tony said. "I left pretty early to catch the convoy."

"That's absolutely fine."

Delilah let Tommy off her lap.

"Tommy, can you show Tony where the cereal is?" she said, speaking clearly so that there was no mistaking it.

Instantly, Tommy grabbed Tony's hand and started pulling him toward the kitchen.

"Tony! Come!"

Tim watched as Tony allowed himself to be dragged into the kitchen and he smiled.

"Tim?"

He didn't move. He just stood there and watched. Then, he felt a hand slip into his.

"Tim?"

He looked down at Delilah and smiled.

"Yeah?"

"Merry Christmas."

His smiled widened.

"Is it? For you, I mean."

"Yes. Because I see you smiling again."

Tim leaned down and kissed her.

"I'm sorry that it's still rare."

"It's all right, Tim. You don't need to apologize."

"Tim! I can't believe you still eat dinosaur cereal!" Tony shouted from the kitchen. "You're going to corrupt your son!"

Tim tensed a little at the sudden sound and felt Delilah's grip on his hand tighten.

"You're all right," she whispered.

Tim took a deep breath and nodded.

"I am." Then, he raised his voice. "That's mine, Tony! If you can't appreciate it, don't eat it!"

"Ha!"

Then, there were a few seconds of silence until Tommy started demanding more attention from Tony... or rather, demanding that Tony share the wealth with him.

"Do you mind if I share some Cheerios with this little guy?" Tony called.

"Go right ahead," Delilah said. "That's pretty much what he had for breakfast, anyway. It might be the last healthy thing he has before we eat dinner."

"Tis the season!"

Tim and Delilah went over to the tree to wait for Tony to finish eating. Delilah got out of her chair and onto the floor, on some pillows that Tim had set up for her. Tim settled down beside her, near enough to the tree that he could reach the presents but still allow Delilah to lean on him. They sat quietly together, without speaking. Tim was trying to just enjoy the holiday. Dr. Bourning had made him work on enjoying life and it was getting easier again.

After a few minutes, Tony and Tommy came into the living room.

"Ah, much better," Tony said. "Even cold cereal is better than nothing. So...time for presents?"

"Yep."

"How do you do it?"

"We take turns," Tim said. "There's only a few of us, so we figured that we might as well, take our time with it. There's no rush to get anywhere."

"Thank goodness. I'm happy not to be traveling for a while," Tony said. "Who goes first?"

"You," Delilah said. "Tim is acting as my pillow right now."

Tim smiled, knowing that he was getting a lot of security from being close to Delilah, and that was the main reason they were sitting together. But it didn't matter. Tony might have recognized Delilah's fib, but he didn't say anything about it. Tim had really wanted this Christmas to be a happy one for Tommy and that meant as little negativity from his father as possible...which was why he needed Delilah close to him.

"Man, I trek across the snow for you and I'm the gofer?" Tony groused, but he grinned and picked up a present. "Oh, this one is for Tommy from his favorite uncle."

"Jeremiah?" Delilah asked, slyly.

"Not your brother. His _favorite_ uncle," Tony said. "That would be me. Come here, Tommy. This is for you. It's yours."

"Mine?" Tommy asked, looking at the wrapping paper.

"Yep. Yours. Let's open it."

Tony helped Tommy open the present and then both Tim and Delilah groaned. Sitting there in all its colorful glory was a child's drum...which came filled with six other instruments, including a whistle and a tambourine.

"Tony, you didn't," Tim said.

"I told you I was going to get an annoying present. Okay, Tommy. Let me show you what to do."

Tony got the drum out of the packaging and showed Tommy how to hit it with the drumsticks.

Within seconds, Tommy was happily pounding on the drum.

"I may never speak to you again, Tony," Delilah said.

"Ah, he's two. His attention span is about ten seconds," Tony said. "Who's next?"

"You have to pick again just to make up for that," Tim said.

"Okay." Tony reached over and picked up a present. "This one is to you, Delilah, and it says it's from Tommy."

"He really did pick it out," Tim said. "I just put him in front of it."

Delilah laughed and opened it up, revealing some neon pink slippers that would keep her feet warm, which was a concern, even if she couldn't feel it.

"Very stylish, Tim."

"No, it's from Tommy," Tim said. "Tommy, look! Mommy likes your present!"

Tommy dropped the drumsticks and ran over to give Delilah a kiss on the cheek.

"Love you, Mommy!"

"I love you, too, Tommy. Thank you for the slippers."

"Pink!" Tommy announced.

"Exactly."

Tim reached over and grabbed a larger present.

"Tony, this is to you, from me."

"Should I worry?" Tony asked.

"I don't think so, but I guess you might need to."

It was obvious what it was. Tim hadn't tried to disguise it, but he did hope that Tony would take it in the spirit it was meant. Quickly, Tony unwrapped it and then stared for a long time. After a few seconds, he looked up at Tim and didn't even say anything, but he didn't need to.

"Let me see it, Tony," Delilah said. "Tim wrapped it and put it under the tree before I got a chance to look."

Tony turned the large framed photo around. It was a picture of the sunset at Lake Tahoe, but Tim had got it printed with a stanza from a poem on it.

"Read it, Tony," Delilah said.

Tony turned it back and read aloud, although his voice was a little rough.

"'There's not a day in all the year  
But holds some hidden pleasure,  
And looking back, joys oft appear  
To brim the past's wide measure.  
But blessings are like friends, I hold,  
Who love and labor near us.  
We ought to raise our notes of praise  
While living hearts can hear us.'"

"It's from a poem called 'Thanksgiving' by Ella Wheeler Wilcox," Tim said, quietly.

"I like it, Tim," Tony said.

And somehow, that simple declaration meant far more than any other expression could have.

"I'm glad," Tim said.

"Okay. Delilah's exempt from picking a present," Tony said, clearing his throat. "So I'll go again."

For the next twenty minutes, they took turns opening presents. It always took longer when it was Tommy's turn, but it stopped him from beating on the drum, so no one complained about that. Then, finally, there were only a couple of presents left. Tony leaned over and picked up a very slender package. In fact, it looked like a wrapped envelope.

"This one is for you, from me," Tony said.

"Should _I_ be scared?"

"No," Tony said. "But don't rip it."

Tim smiled and pulled off the wrapping paper...and he was right. It was an envelope. He opened the envelope and a piece of paper fell out.

Tim looked at it, at first with confusion. Then, he looked up at Tony who was grinning as he saw that Tim understood.

"Read it, Tim."

"Don't _you_ already know what it is?" Tim asked, hardly daring to believe what it was.

"Yep. Read it anyway."

Tim looked back down at the paper and started to read.

"If you ever plan to motor west,  
Travel my way, take the highway that is best.  
Get your kicks on Route sixty-six.

It winds from Chicago to LA,  
More than two thousand miles all the way.  
Get your kicks on Route sixty-six.

Now you go through Saint Looey  
Joplin, Missouri,  
And Oklahoma City is mighty pretty.  
You see Amarillo,  
Gallup, New Mexico,  
Flagstaff, Arizona.  
Don't forget Winona,  
Kingman, Barstow, San Bernardino.

Won't you get hip to this timely tip:  
When you make that California trip  
Get your kicks on Route sixty-six.

Won't you get hip to this timely tip,  
When you make that California trip  
Get your kicks on Route sixty-six."

"That's a song by Nat King Cole," Delilah said. "I don't get it. You didn't write it...well, it looks like you _did_ write it down, but..."

"I get it," Tim said. "Are you sure, Tony?"

"Well, I'm not sure about when. That's up in the air, but about Route 66? Absolutely."

"What do you mean?" Delilah asked.

Tim started to smile, feeling more like smiling than he had in a long time, feeling a warmth that started to chip away at the cold that still enveloped his soul. It was a lot thinner than it had been before, but this wasn't just thinning it. It was starting to chisel and pull away chunks.

"We've never done a road trip on Route 66 before," Tim said.

He felt Delilah hug him as she understood.

"And we could see the Cadillac Ranch that we had to cut out before," Tony said. "Maybe a detour to Carlsbad Caverns? I have no idea."

Tim looked at the paper again and then got up and leaned over and hugged Tony.

"Thank you, Tony."

"Hey, it's a long road. I don't want to drive it alone."

Tim let him go and smiled.

"Neither do I."

"Good. It's settled. ...whenever we manage to build up some personal days." Tony smiled. "Merry Christmas, Tim."

"It is," Tim said.

The rest of Christmas Day was quiet...with the exception of the toy drum that Tommy was constantly returning to. They had dinner and then, with the snow still falling, they all went to bed.

Tim wasn't tired, however, and after Delilah fell asleep, he quietly got up and walked out to the front window to stare at the snow. It was finally starting to slow down.

A sudden hand on his shoulder made him jump and Tim turned.

"What are you doing up?" Tony asked.

"Not tired. You?"

"Not tired."

"Tony, are you sure you want to risk this?" Tim asked, holding out the paper.

"I'm positive," Tony said. "Another great road trip to get rid of the bad memories of this last one. It doesn't have to be Route 66, but there aren't songs written about the other ones."

"And you want to spend that much time with me?"

"Yes. I have before, you know. One bad road trip doesn't erase all the others."

"It could have," Tim said, earnestly. "And it would have been no blame on you if it had. I don't know if many people would have been willing to get over how hard I made things."

"Real friends would have," Tony said. "And it didn't erase the other road trips. When you're ready, Tim, we'll go. And we _will_ have a great time."

"When I'm ready."

"And not a minute later," Tony said with mock severity.

Tim smiled. "Okay."

"Good. Now, go to bed, Tim. And I will, too. Promise."

"Okay."

They both walked back to the bedrooms. Tim stopped.

"Merry Christmas, Tony. I'm glad you're here."

"Merry Christmas, Tim. I can't think of anywhere else I'd rather be."

FINIS!


End file.
